Wasted
by Queen of Pascalities
Summary: He's wearing a tux and I'm sitting naked on a public bathroom floor. This is much more arousing than it probably should be.
1. Wasted

_**A/N: **__This is a new project I'm starting to celebrate my eighteenth birthday, which is sort of today. And it's kind of how I feel about it._

_If you don't read the website _Texts From Last Night_, you definitely should. Unless of course, you want to live in ignorance of the general American teenage living. The plot line for this thing was inspired by that website._

. . .

**Wasted.**

_by QueenofPascalities_

. . .

"Jesus, what the-... Aw, come on. Don't be a bitch..."

Those are the glorious drunk words I just whispered to the zipper of my dress while trying to stay balanced on the stilts I'm wearing for shoes. Just by those words, anyone can tell I'm a lady at the epitome of class and good behaviour.

Right?

And it's even more evident by the spectacle that my head offers, with smudged makeup, a pallid, almost vacant expression, dishevelled hair and deep dark circles under my eyes. Plus, there's the fact that I'm completely shitfaced at my college's Winter Formal, and trying to take my dress off in a public bathroom because it feels too tight around my torso and makes it sort of hard to breathe, and heck, I feel like it.

Do I need to mention I'm not wearing any underwear?

As it is my second Winter Formal in this school, I feel like I have a right to go commando, especially today, where there is absolutely no chance of me getting my period, which I think is brilliant timing on the teachers' and administration's part. Earlier this evening, I even saw a guy I'm pretty sure I'm going to end up riding by the end of the night, so it's all good. He's all tall and dark and older-looking. Probably a guest, or an old student. I don't really care, because after tonight I'm officially on Christmas holiday and I won't be seeing anyone from school for a loooong time.

"ARGH!"

Still, that goddamn zipper? Can't pull it down. It's probably stuck to a piece of thread that I can reach, at least without falling on my ass, and even then, it's not guaranteed I'll get it. Falling from that high would mean having huge bruises on my butt, and very possibly knocking my head on the floor, cracking my skull open and bleeding to death because no one drinks enough to go to the bathroom on Winter Formals.

It's worth a shot.

I reach as far as I can up my back to catch my zipper again, then fold my other arm over my shoulder to get the hem of my dress. I fumble for the loose thread and lean backwards to get a better grip. I can feel the muscles in my legs straining to keep me on my feet. The position is really uncomfortable, but all I can focus on is getting that zipper down.

When I can finally feel the thread under my fingertips, I grab it and give a forceful tug, effectively unblocking the zipper and throwing myself off balance. I crash on the floor with a yell and a loud thud. Fortunately, I don't hit my head. The last thing I need is a concussion and a run at the hospital, which would definitely make it impossible to erase any evidence of what is transpiring tonight.

Sleeping away from home is fine, because I can call my parents and tell them I'm crashing at a friend's house. But sleeping at a place where _they_ will call my parents to tell them I got wasted and cracked my head open is not the best way to end the night. I'd much rather sleep in a trash bin. That's the good thing about the "Don't ask, don't tell" relationship I have with my parents. Plus, I'm not being entirely irresponsible. I almost always find a place to stay for the night (guys can't resist drunk girls who don't cry, don't puke and are willing to put out) and I've been doing this only since I was eighteen, which is the age of majority in my country, so, really, there's no underage drinking, no child abuse, and I make sure never to get arrested.

Okay, so I turned eighteen two months ago. I'm still considered an adult. And my ex-boyfriend (that douche) was my age, so any foreplay we did, it was legal then too. We never got around to actual sex and (probably because of that) he broke up with me a week before my birthday. I moped for five days, hit everything in sight for the remaining two, and as soon as I turned eighteen, I went to a club, got drunk and ended up spread-eagled on some random dude's backseat.

Majority is truly the best thing that's ever happened to me. The most awesome part is, I'm not even doing it to make my ex jealous. I just really, really enjoy not being tied down to anyone. Well, right now, anyway. I'll probably change my mind someday, but it's not going to happen soon. No way, José.

I kick my pumps off, freeing my aching feet, and awkwardly pull myself up by gripping the sink counter, still lacking a lot of balance. Once I'm steady, I reach behind my back again and successfully pull my zipper down. My dress falls to the ground, pooling around my ankles, and I take a deep breath.

Man, this feels good.

The light, fresh breeze of the A/C on my skin and in my no longer constricted lungs, the feel of my long hair, that I just untied, brushing against the small of my back and over my breasts. The pressure in my chest now gone, I feel liberated, light as a feather, and an urge to twirl around like a little girl swarms over me.

I reach over to my purse and pull out my iPod and a bottle of vodka. I turn the little music device on, put it on shuffle, not even bothering to read what the title of the first song is, pull the earplugs out and put it back down on the counter, transferring my attention to the bottle of clear liquid in my hand. I twist the cap off and take a long swig.

It tastes terrible and burns my throat, but the rest of my body feels all warm and fuzzy and that's pretty much all that counts now. I proceed on dancing and twirling to the music, my brain too mushy to process what the song is. The bathroom walls and stall doors are all a messy grey and blue blur, and every time I catch a glimpse of someone in one of the mirrors, I stop dancing, panicked, and then it takes me three or four seconds to realise it's only me, after which I resume my unbalanced dancing.

Every once in a while, I sing along (read: shout out the lyrics off key and probably off beat, too), stopping to hydrate my parched throat with more alcohol (like _that_'s going to help) and then picking up again, until I get distracted by needing to keep my balance or seeing my very scary reflection.

"I LOVE YOU BABY, AND IF IT'S QUITE ALRIGHT, I NEED YOU BABY, TO WARM THE LONELY NIGHTS, I LOVE YOU BABYYY... TRUST IN ME WHEN I SAAAAAAAAAY~..."

**BANG.**

"GAH!"

I stop dead in my tracks, tripping over my feet in the process and finally landing on my butt, the shock resonating through my elbows that smacked against the floor. It takes my brain a few minutes to register what just happened. When my vision finally becomes clearer, I see someone (a guy. _A guy_.) on the floor, a few feet away from me, holding himself up on his hands and knees, his face turned towards the ground. My eyes mimic saucers and my heart misses a beat.

Still in slow mode, I realise that he must have just crashed through the door, possibly as drunk as I am, and maybe, just maybe, he hasn't seen me yet. Unfortunately, my body feels too heavy for me to want to drag myself up on my feet, let alone put my dress back on. The only genius thing I find to do in my lazy state is to clamp my thighs shut and cross my knees, so that he does get a panoramic view up my... well, you know.

Before my still-wide eyes, the guy slowly raises his head and finally lays his eyes on me. As _his_ eyes widen, my heart skips another beat and sinks to my stomach.

It's the dude. I mean, _the_ dude.

The one I very openly flirted with half an hour ago. The one I have every intention of having sex with once I leave this place. Or not. Leaving's optional. But the situation seems to have taken a unfavourable turn for that plan (because no way am I having sex on a public bathroom floor, no matter how drunk I am) and he looks like he's going back on his possible decision of bringing me back to his place.

He swallows slowly, his wide eyes roaming over my body, and that's when my brain decides to leave my head and take a look at the situation from an outsider's point of you. We're both on a bathroom floor, staring each other down like scared animals, he's wearing a tux and I'm naked. If it was a picture, and you cut around each of us on Photoshop, then superimposed us, we would be in a very compromising position.

I find it much more arousing than it probably should be.

"Shit," he lets out in a breath, and scrambles to his feet.

I watch him wobble awkwardly out the door, and as soon as it closes behind him, I hurl myself at my dress. If I can put it back on quickly enough to catch him before he leaves, I might have a chance to explain why he just found me stark naked in a school bathroom. I yank the piece of clothing up past my hips and over my boobs, and try my best bring the zipper back up without catching any of my hair in it. Fortunately, it doesn't put up any resistance.

As I fumble for the clasp, the door crashes open again. Still on my knees, I look up, hoping it's my dude that just came back, by some miracle, and I find myself disappointed. It's a couple, two people from my class whose names I'm too drunk to recall. The girl has her legs up around the guy's waist, her skirt up to her hips, and he makes clumsy efforts to direct them into a bathroom stall without running her into a wall under her incessant attempts to swallow his gums.

I stay frozen until I hear the door click, then snap the clasp of my dress, gather my shoes and other belongings, and run out the door. I look around as I stuff my iPod and vodka bottle in my purse, looking for my guy, who is nowhere in sight. He probably went home, no doubt disappointed in me. I let my shoulders slump. Time to go home and drink some more. This is _not _how I wanted to finish the evening.

I haven't taken two steps towards the school's atrium that the men's bathroom door is abruptly swung open, revealing my dude, cellphone in hand, seemingly texting someone. He notices me and stops with a start (ha! That's a funny thought), dropping his phone in the process. We both bent down to retrieve it, and before he snatches it away, I have enough time to read the words "naked", "bathroom" and "jack off". I'm too gone to be offended that he's texting about me (and that he jacked off because of me) and instead I smirk at him. He sends me what I guess is an apologetic smile and I giggle, hopefully making him understand I don't mind.

Right when he opens his mouth to talk to me, loud moans start coming from the women's bathroom. I glance towards the door, then back at my dude. He seems every bit as shocked as me . I just giggle more.

"I'm Sasuke," he says, his voice rather steady for a drunk guy.

"Sakura," I reply, a bit sloppier with my pronunciation. He seems to understand nonetheless and addresses me a small smile, more smug than sorry this time, and shakes my head. Man, he's pretty. I mean handsome. Whatever. I'd tap that. Many, _many _times.

"Are you free tonight, Sakura?" He asks, and I know I have to be witty now, if I want to end up in his bed.

"Well," I pause for a split second, to gather my idea. "I thought I had a long night of naked dancing ahead of me, but it seems someone has stolen my spot."

There. That's intelligent enough, right?

"I'm sure you'll find enough space at my house to do that," he replies with a chuckle.

"You should show me your house, then." SCORE.

"Sure. Come on."

He puts his arm around my shoulder and pulls me close. I can't help but giggle (IN MY HEAD) in glee.

. . .

Oh. My. _God_.

He lives in a mansion, in which he has his own private wing. Do you realise how much space that gives me to dance naked? And in how many rooms we can go at it like rabbits without being interrupted?

SQUEE.

. . .

_**A/N: **__I'm weird. And way too romantic. This should be more hardcore._

_Review?_


	2. Wishful Thinking

_**A/N:**__ Chapter two!_

It takes everything I have to crack an eye open. And when I say open, I mean still pretty closed, but open enough to let some light access to my pupil and send a smudgy blur through my optical nerves and to my brain.

My head hurts. Bad.

I roll onto my back, hoping not to meet anything on my way to the rest of the mattress.

Oh.

My back hurts.

My legs hurt.

My feet hurt.

I hurt, basically.

My shoulder just came down to rest on something warm. It might be another shoulder, but I'd need to look to be really sure, and I don't think my neck feels up to turning my head just yet. Plus, my eyes feel too good closed. So I just stay like that. On my back, in pain. Oh, and probably stark naked too.

I guess it's a good thing I'm in a bed. It means I'm wanted there. Or I've been wanted there very recently, and I'm not required to leave the premises yet. Usually I wake up in a car, on a couch or in some stranger party-helder's bathroom, or I just don't go to sleep before I get home, where I don't go anywhere further than the living room carpet, so my current location suits me just fine.

This bed is comfortable. More than mine, really, and that's saying something because I tested every mattress in the store before settling down on the most plush and pleasant. And the covers here smell so good. From experience, any college guy's bed set ends up reeking after a few days out of the wash. Maybe this one's freshly cleaned. That'd be a first, catching a guy who just did his laundry. I'm not complaining, though. After the mind-boggling number of four times I've ever woken up in a bed that wasn't mine, I'm glad this one doesn't stink of indescribable stuff, let alone stink at all.

And it feels like heaven with pillows and a down comforter, so that's a plus.

The warm thing against my shoulder is officially not a human limb. It's furry. And breathing. Gathering some strength I doubt I have, I turn my head to my other side, now awake enough to care what I'm sharing this godly bed with. Through my still blurry vision, I decipher the shape of a dark fur ball. It's only when I poke it with a lazy finger that a cat head detaches from the base and stares back at me with wide startled eyes.

I debate whether I should cuddle with it or not, considering its undeniably immense cuteness, but also the fact that it doesn't know me and might scratch or bite me. I'd hate to spill blood on this perfect bed, and the adorability of this cat is not worth it.

The little furry doesn't leave me much of a choice, however. As soon as I move my hand again, it jumps to its paws and dashes off the bed as if I were coming at it with a frying pan and a recipe for cat soup. My eyes are not quick enough to follow the kitty's course, so instead they just refocus on what's lying behind its previous spot.

Eyes.

Black eyes.

Or maybe a dark shade of another colour, but it's hard to tell right now, through the fog that's still filling my brain. The point is that there is a pair of dark eyes staring at me, and those eyes are situated right smack in the middle of the most handsome face I have ever been given the honour of looking at.

Oh, right. I exchanged saliva with that face, last night. Among other things.

I concentrate on staring back with all my might until I realise the face – which is most likely still attached to the rest of Sasuke's (fabulous) male body I frolicked with a few hours ago – is smiling at me. Well, more like smirking, but it's a soft smirk, nothing mocking. It's really small, too. It's sweet.

And _man_, it makes his face even more attractive, if that's possible. I suddenly feel the need to kiss him. Like, really bad. For no reason, except that he's hot.

I refrain myself, though, and instead let my gaze roam the rest of his supreme being. He's lying on his back, like me, with his head turned my way. Apparently, I pulled all of the comforter to myself in my sleep, because only the bed sheet covers him from the hips down. I think he arranged it that way before I woke up, but I won't judge. I would've done that too, had I woken up before him.

My mind lingers on his perfect abs and chest for a while, while I wonder how I was lucky enough to end up sleeping next to such a guy, until I remind myself that he's still smirking at me.

"What are you smiling about?" I can't even muster a smile of my own or at least a pleasant tone to ask my question with.

"Nothing much," he says without losing his smile.

"Well, stop smiling, then." I didn't really intend to be that harsh.

"I can't. You're too pretty."

Oh no.

"I wish I could wake up to that more often."

No no no no no. This is _not_ happening.

He can't have fallen in love with me. He shouldn't even _like_ me that way. I promised myself I wouldn't get in a real relationship after the disaster with my last boyfriend. I did nothing last night to make him want to have a long term thing with me. Was that what he meant when he said I'd have all the space I want to dance around naked? Did that imply a regular visit on my part?

No, I don't want to. Regular is never good. You get bored, and you cheat, and then when she finds out, you act like it's her fault and you break up with her right before her birthday. I'm not going through this again.

I should've woken up earlier. In fact, right now, I should get dressed and leave, while I still can. I know what this man is capable of and I know he can make me stay if I spend one more minute in his bed.

"I gotta go," I blurt out before pushing the comforter aside and sitting up to try and locate my clothes. I barely miss his smirk sliding off his face.

"Wait, what? Where are you going?" He asks, sitting up.

"Home."

"Why?"

"I was supposed to go back last night, I already shipped my luggage." That's a blatant lie – well, the first part, anyway – but I don't really owe him the truth.

"So you can't stay." His tone is almost pleading.

"So I can't stay," I confirm, feeling worse about the situation than I should. I pull my dress up my body and zip it halfway, just so it doesn't fall off and so I don't have to battle it again, then search my purse for an elastic.

"Again, why?" He's gotten up now, and he's walking to me, the sheet still around his hips. I sigh, irritated, and pull my hair into the messiest ponytail of my existence.

"Did you think you and I were gonna wake up this morning and be hopelessly in love with each other? Did you even think for a second that last night, I hooked up with you because I wanted you to be my boyfriend?"

"No. But-"

"Good. Then we're on the same page." I pick up my shoes and stomp out the door. I haven't reached the bottom of the stairs – there are stairs that lead to his room – that he catches up to me, now wearing a pair of boxers and a shirt.

"Don't you at least want to eat something?" He asks, gripping my arm.

"Why are you pushing this?"

"I'm not. I'm just trying to be a good host."

"You don't have to, I'm leaving right this minute, if you would just let go of me."

He hesitates for a moment, then releases my arm.

"Fine," he says. "Do it your way."

I rush down the stairs, through the lobby and to the door. I shove my sore feet in my shoes and yank the door open...

Then I freeze.

In every meaning of the term.

Outside, on the porch and the front lawn, a thick layer of white, fluffy snow that definitely wasn't there last night covers every square centimetre, huge, puffy snowflakes are falling from the cloud-covered sky and an excruciatingly cold wind blows everything through the door towards me. Before I know it, Sasuke is standing next to me, a new smirk on his face.

"I was going to offer you clean clothes and a ride home after breakfast, but if you really want to walk, it's up to you."

I hate this guy.

No matter how good he is in bed.

He had a chauffeur – no matter how I pronounce it, it still sounds snobbish – drive me home after the biggest breakfast I've had the opportunity to have and a couple of Advils. I refused to be given any clothes of his, so he got me a pair of his mom's tights, to keep my legs warm (he says), an old pair of boots (ugly 90's things, too big for me), a new-looking sweater that I doubt will ever keep me warm in the weather outside and a pretty wool scarf he says is a gift from his grandmother. And with that, I was out the door.

Luckily, my school isn't in the same town as my house. I wouldn't want to cross him during my Christmas holidays. At least I won't go near his mansion for a whole month and a half, and he was probably only a guest at the formal, so I won't be seeing any of him again.

Ever.

_**A/N: **__Ooh, foreshadowing._


	3. Wonders

_**A/N: **__I've recently realised I made Sakura's birthday sort of correspond to mine. I'm sorry about that. I know her birthday's on March 28__th__, I just didn't think about it until I was thinking up new ideas for upcoming chapters. I actually wanted to do one about her birthday, later in the story. Oh well. I'm too lazy to go change it now, so fuck it. Let's just say, for the sake of this, that her birthday's in September._

I love school. I really do.

It probably has something to do with the fact that in college, we can choose the program we want to study in, and there are such cool programs like Cinema. Yes, Cinema. Where you learn how to properly make and watch movies, along with using professional equipment and having a whole class on how to take a pretty photograph.

What's really cool, though, is that between a third and a half of the first years don't come back for the second year, so the number of people goes down and the number of strong bonds between the students goes up. And there's no drama, like in the Theater program, because everyone is more on the introverted side and no one really feels the need to be mean to someone else. So we're all just a bunch of cool people, who like the first years (some programs have a tradition of being complete douchebags to the new students) and who are considered pretty high on the pyramid of coolness.

And the parties are freakin' epic.

We don't have many druggies. A lot of people smoke cigarettes, especially the teachers (I don't smoke, the smell makes me sick), but no one really gets high. Unless you consider coffee and chocolate actual drugs. We all prefer booze, truthfully, and that suits me just fine. I might have a drinking problem later, but right now, I'm happy getting drunk every now and then.

Although, during school, I can't drink as often as I'd like, because I'm on the soccer team, and that requires my entire focus, but the girls like partying after matches just as much as Cinema students like partying every school night. We just can't drink too much, not to get kicked off the team, and we can't drink before games. Because that'd be stupid.

Most of my friends at school were already my friends in high school, but the Cinema kids are just so awesome that I've already made friends with most of them, which is weird for me, because I've never been a really popular kid. I started having friends only in high school, except for two people, one of them not being my friend anymore and the other having completely gone off the radar in our last year.

Last cool thing about my school: the teachers. Well, most of them. The Cinema ones, anyway. You know, the kind of teachers that are laid back and funny, that connect with the students but that still find a way to be respected and to get the students to do their work. Work that, by the way, we all really enjoy doing. Yeah. There are three teachers like that at my school, and they all teach in Cinema.

So now, you understand why I couldn't have been more eager for today to come. The first day back to school after the Christmas holidays, and it's today. Schedule in hand, school bag on my shoulder, iPod earplugs blasting music in my ears and huge snow coat making me sweat my life away, I walk solemnly towards my first class of the day, which is Techniques: Video Creation 4 and possibly my favourite class ever.

In short, I'm having the best day of my life. Until...

"Ow!"

"Oh, sorry!"

"..."

"Oh... Hi."

Until I run into someone and realise that that someone is Sasuke. Probably-infatuated-with-me Sasuke. Wasn't-supposed-to-cross-my-path-ever-again Sasuke.

Crap.

"Hey... Sakura." He does have a pleasant voice, I forgot about that. "How are you?"

"Uh... I'm surprised to see you. Here. At my school. Are you following me?" He chuckles. How can he chuckle! He's freakin' stalking me!

"This is my school too, you know." How many years ago was that? "I'm in my last year." Oh.

"Oh." I feel stupid. "Me too." I feel stupider.

"I know." Do you? "What's your first class?"

"Uh..." Should I tell him? "Video Creation." This might have been a bad idea.

"What?"

"Video Creation," I repeat a little louder. I have a tendency of talking really low when I'm sober.

"No, I heard you. It's just not a course."

"What! Of course it is!"

"How is a class about creating videos useful in Administration?"

"Admin-... I'm not in Administration."

"Oh."

"Why did you think I was in Administration?"

"The Winter Formal. That was for the Administration students."

"Oh. A... friend invited me."

"Oh." We seem to be saying that a lot, today.

"Yeah..."

Awkward silences. I hate those. And this idiot is ruining my perfect day with his awkward silence. He doesn't look awkward (it's been established before, he's gorgeous), and I never thought he could ever make me feel uncomfortable – well, more uncomfortable than that _one_ morning – by being uncomfortable himself.

"Well." Must. Break. Silence. "I'll be going, now. Bye."

That dude is really changing my perspective of the male population. I'd never found anyone so handsome before, nor had I ever been so awkward around a guy since about two weeks into my first semester (I went to an all-girls high school, and until I met my ex-boyfriend, I was rather shy around men), and I've definitely never run away from a guy so fast in my life. Except maybe when playing tag in elementary. But that didn't count. The Kiss tag was horror in the eyes of every girl in the school, because only the boy we called Blubber Boy would ever chase us around the school yard to kiss us with his blubbery, profusely-salivating mouth.

By the way, Administration kids have the most _boring_ parties I've ever heard of! I don't know if I should be proud or worried, or even surprised that Sasuke (and two other students) got as drunk as I was that night.

Still pretty bothered, I let myself fall into one of the chairs of the Video Creation classroom. It takes me a few seconds to notice the fact that I arrived pretty early and that only two other students are in the room with me. One of them, called Kiba, is sleeping on his table in the back of the class, while the other one, called Temari, is writing in a notebook, a row behind me. Once she takes notice of my arrival, she raises her head and waves to me with a little smile. I send a smile back and she goes back to writing.

In the next few minutes, the other students fill up the room one by one, and I greet everyone, politely enquiring about their holidays. By the time the teacher, Hatake Kakashi, arrives and sets his things down, pretty much everyone is here. Only three of my friends are missing, but they're known for being late a lot, so I don't worry myself with their absence.

I barely notice when they arrive, however. My mind is plagued with the Sasuke matter. Why was he so friendly, this morning? He'd seemed rather annoyed with me when I left his house, more than a month ago. Surely he couldn't have forgiven me so easily. He looks like someone who holds grudges. Hell, he doesn't even look like someone who would be friendly to people. He's in Administration, for God's sake! They're not even friendly among themselves, in that program. They just keep things polite and proper, just in case they'd have a favour to ask somewhere in the future. One of my friends, Naruto, has a girlfriend who's an Administration kid (they were the ones to invite me to the Formal) and she says she doesn't have any real friends in her class.

So why me? Why was he nice to me while I was a jerk to him back in December? What's so special about me that he didn't give me the cold shoulder this morning? Maybe he's found out something about me, something he could blackmail me with. Oh my God, maybe he'll threaten me to spill the beans about my slightly strong appreciation for alcohol to whoever is important enough to punish me about it! His politeness was probably only a mask to make me trust him.

I can already imagine what's going to happen. He'll force me to have sex with him in exchange for his silence. Of course, I won't complain at first, because _man_, that dude knows how to please a woman, but eventually he'll get violent, and I won't be able to get out of his torturous grip because I won't want him to tell about my drinking habits. It'll ruin me and I'll end up failing my entire semester, effectively ruining my whole future, and I'll have to move away and create myself a new identity and a new life so that he doesn't find me.

"Half an hour, that's pretty good time. Alright, guys, we're done. I'll see you all next week."

"Sakura?" ("Has anyone seen Idate? Oh, he's not coming anymore? Alright, off the list, then.")

"Huh?"

Ino's waving a hand in front of my face.

"Jesus, Sakura, where's your focus? You spaced out the whole class."

"I... I did?"

"Yeah. I didn't even get my hug. I haven't seen you in six weeks, idiot, you should be tackling me, right now."

"Sorry, I was thinking."

"Wooow, I didn't know you could think," Naruto jumps in, making my brain hurt with his bright orange snow coat.

"Shut it, dumbass, _you_ can't think. It gives you a nosebleed." Ah, Ino. The queen of all things tactful and subtle. "Sakura's just thinking about a guy, aren't you, Sakura?"

HOW DID SHE KNOW? She scares me, sometimes.

"Uh..."

"Temari said she saw you talking to a fine piece of man meat, this morning. Come on, spill."

"Oh. Yeah, I was thinking about him. I think he might blackmail me." I swear, the look she's giving me right now, she wouldn't have even come close to it if I'd told her I was shaving all my hair and becoming a Buddhist monk.

"You're kidding, right?"

"Do I look like I'm kidding? He was way too nice to me, this morning. It's not normal."

"Why wouldn't he have been friendly?" Naruto asks.

"Well, you know the Winter Formal you and Hinata invited me to?" He nods. "Well, he's a classmate of hers, and I sort of got drunk and hooked up with him there. He brought me back to his house. We... Well, I won't tell you all the de-"

"Was he good?"

"Ino!"

"What? I have a right to know."

"No, you don't. Anyway. The morning after, he... he acted like... like he wanted us to be, you know, together. Like, _together_, together. A couple."

"What's wrong with that?"

"She vowed she wouldn't fall in love after what that asshole Idate did to her. He's not coming back, by the way, did you hear? He dropped out."

"Did he? Shame."

"Uh, guys?"

"Yeah, rumour has it he had enough of seeing Sakura be a strong and independent woman who didn't crawl at his feet, so he packed his bags and went to find another girl to screw over. He's somewhere in the States, I think."

"Guys?"

"So he's done hurting Sakura?"

"It would seem like that, yes."

"Guys!"

"What?"

"Don't you want to hear the rest of the story?"

"No, I can imagine the rest. You've become a bitter woman, Sakura. If you don't watch it, you'll end up an old maid."

"You have to be a virgin to be an old maid. That hasn't been my status for almost a year, now."

"Aaw, my little Sakura grows up too fast."

"Weren't you saying I was a bitter woman just two seconds ago?"

"Well, I'm not saying it anymore. Come on, if we hurry up, we might make it to the main entrance before everyone else is dismissed from their classes. You wouldn't want to catch the second year Administration class, would you?"

"Oh, hell no."

"Hey! _I_ want to catch it," Naruto protests. "My girlfriend's in that class."

"Yeah, but nobody cares about you." What'd I tell you, about Ino and tact?

"And, wait... You got drunk at the Formal?"

"Uh... Yes?"

"What is wrong with you, woman! You know what happens when you drink."

"Don't worry, I was in the safety of a bathroom."

"I don't care about your safety, I'm concerned about other people's safety. You could've hurt someone!"

"Well, thank you for worrying about me. And yes, I could've hurt someone, but I didn't. It was a really pleasant night, actually. Only the morning disappointed me."

"Dudes, if we don't leave right now, we'll be caught in the flood of the century."

Ah, Cinema friends. Can't live without them.

My current place of residence is a student-only apartment near the school. Naruto and Ino live in the apartment right next to mine. I live with Temari and two other people, but they all either leave for school long before me or long after me, so I rarely talk to any of them. They're Cinema students, and all of them are really nice people, but we don't interact much. It suits me fine, since I'm almost always over at Ino's and Naruto's, but I guess I could try and make a socialite of myself a little more often, just to get to know them better.

Oh, well, whatever. I'll cross them eventually. And I'm pretty close with Temari already, anyway.

Right now, I have a possible blackmailer to worry about.

_**A/N: **__Kind of a boring chapter. More exciting things happen in the next one. See ya next week!_

_Review?_


	4. Wanted

_**A/N: **__Chapter 4!_

Do you have any idea how hard it is to avoid someone in a school of over four thousand students? It's nearly impossible.

Of course, some of my difficulty might be linked to the fact that my beloved hair colour is very hard to miss and also that I have to loudest friends to have ever graced the earth. Some people have no talent whatsoever for invisibility and being at the right place at the right time, and I'm one of those people.

Wherever I go in this godforsaken school, I inevitably attract attention, and Sasuke is inevitably standing close enough to notice it, which results in me fleeing the scene as fast as I can, also inevitably forgetting something of importance there and having to abandon it to the mercilessly thieving student body until I know the place is cleared and devoid of any Sasuke, which is when I can go try to get it back.

Last time (read: just now) was in the cafeteria, somebody dropped his tray (that held extra-saucy spaghetti and a bowl of soup) all over my newly acquired agenda, that I'd been minutely filling with every appointment, soccer game, birthday and other important date I knew of for more than an hour just to keep my attention away from Sasuke, who was sitting just two tables away from mine, and in my rush to pick up my stuff in order to go buy a new agenda, I left my cellphone on the table.

Don't ask me why none of my friends picked it up and brought it to me, they just didn't do it. And now, I'm cellphone-less. I have no change to use a public phone, and I'm in a class where none of my friends was assigned, so calling my own phone is out of the question right now. I guess that at best, the person who finds it will call the contact called "Home" and tell my parents he's found my phone, and at worse, he'll keep it an reboot it. Which would suck. Balls.

Argh, and what if someone texts me something... well, inappropriate for public viewing and that dude (or girl, whatever) sees it? I mean, I'm often a subject to booty calls, and the guys who text me don't use very subtle vocabulary. Of course, there are worse things than traumatizing a random stranger, but this could easily get around school (although nothing about college is as bad as high school) and my reputation as a wallflower would go caput.

At best, Sasuke gets word of it and decides I'm too much of a bicycle to bother with, and at worse, my number is shared around between friends and friends of friends and my text and vocal inboxes get flooded. In retrospect, this is not too bad a situation.

Still.

Can't. Text. Ugh.

And no clock, either. No one bothered to put clocks in the classrooms, and I lost my watch a while ago, so there's no way to tell when a class of mine is about to end. Like right now. No matter how down-to-earth, hard core hipster you are, not knowing what time it is is the most frustrating thing in the world, and you feel kind of blind. Ah, what has technology done to us? (It's been phantasmagorical, that's what.)

Man, this class is just draaaaaagging aloooooooong...

Zzzzzzzz...

**SLAM.**

"GAH!"

Who the fuck just-... Oh. It's my teacher. He looks pissed. I'm pretty sure, had he had better aim, he would've smashed that dictionary on my head instead of on my desk. It's ridiculous, though. Even while being consumed by anger, he's still boring. He reprimands me for a good three minutes ("If you don't like my class, you can leave right now!"), during which my eyes go all droopy again, and he only stops once I've picked up my things, waddled out of the room and closed the door behind me. He invites me to leave, I leave. Simple.

Maybe I should go check the lost and found box at the student association, just to see if someone brought my phone back. I doubt it, though. A phone is an easy target for any broke student desperate to get in touch with civilisation without having to pay too much for it, and in a school of four thousand broke students, one was bound to pounce on my poor little phone.

The student association's lost and found box is completely empty, of course. The janitors haven't found anything (really nice people, the janitors. We should give them more credit for all they do, even when students are complete asses to them), the kitchen ladies either and still no sign of any of my friends, because a) they can't call me, I don't have my phone, and b) I left my three hour-long class after fifty minutes, as I was able to see on a clock in a hallway.

At least the school's peaceful at this hour. Pretty much everyone is either in class or going back home, and the rest of them are sleeping in the cafeteria. Walking through the tables, I try to spot the one I was sitting down at. Perhaps if I sit there, my phone thief will recognise me as the legitimate owner and return it to me. My fantasy's as wild as it gets, but it can't hurt to try.

Oh.

My.

God.

My... My phone... My phone's there!

_My_ phone's there!

My _phone's_ there!

My phone's _there_!

As gracefully as possible (read: awkward and clumsy), I run to the table, occasionally running into every single freakin' chair in between, and I pick up my baby, pulling it close to my heart. As I cradle it, I hear someone pushing chairs around behind me. He can do whatever he wants, really. He could commit murder right now that I wouldn't care.

Okay, maybe not. But still.

I've found my phone! It sounds incredibly selfish, shallow and material, but _man_, I thought I was never going to see it again, and that would've literally meant that my life was over. The dude (or girl, I don't know) can play around with chairs all he wants, there is nothing he or she can do to pull my attention away from my precious (insert Gollum impersonation here).

Except maybe tap me on the shoulder. I turn around, ready to explain to him (or her) how awfully untimely his interruption is. He (it's a he. A very unfamiliar he, I might add. Why is he trying to socialize with me?) doesn't give me time to talk. With a friendly smile plastered on his face, deep brown eyes piercing through mine and a large, strong hand suspended in mid-air, he towers slightly over me, obviously not aware of his height and how intimidating it is.

"Hey, are you Sakura?" he asks, and his voice surprises me.

Now, picture him for a second. Bulging muscles, large shoulders, strong features and impressive height. That's the kind of guy you imagine having a really deep, rumbling voice that reaches the bottom of your spine and twists your stomach because you can't help but think how horrifying it would be to hear that voice in a haunted house or an empty alley.

Well, this dude right here has the voice of an Ethics and Religious Beliefs teacher. You know, the soft and gentle kind, that makes you think of a short, round, slightly balding man with glasses and a beard and a friendly smile. Ah, well, he has the "friendly smile" part down, at least.

"That is my name, yes. It's very common, though, so I might not be the one you're looking for," I answer as politely as I can, trying very hard not to burst out laughing. Because, really, that voice? I can barely resist.

"Are you Uchiha Sasuke's Sakura?" WHAT!

"Excuse me?"

"Well, he just left that phone here, and he told us that some girl named Sakura left it at his house last night." _Last night!_ "He asked if we could make sure she was the one picking it up. I'm just checking if you're the right girl."

"Oh... Well, I am." I turn the phone on and search through my photo files. "See? That's me." I show him a self-taken picture of me (the least blurry, which isn't saying much) with a male friend of mine.

"Oh, good. Will you go out with me, then?"

"Uh... what?"

"Don't you want to be... comforted?"

"Comforted? What for?"

"Well, everyone knows Sasuke only does one night stands." Oh, _everyone_ does?

"I think you mean Sasuke only does easy girls. And for your information, last night-"

** Bzzzzzz. Bzzzzzz. Bzzzzzz.**

I jump with a start and almost drop my phone. I hold a finger up in front of the dude's face while looking at the screen that just lit up to announce a text message.

"Hold that thought." (Okay, so I know it's my thought we're holding, but let's not get into petty technicalities.)

_**FROM:**_

_**Sasuke**_

_**Meet me at the cinema at 3.**_

_**I'm buying.**_

_**12:49P Thurs Jan 21**_

. . .

How-

Wha-

I...

I don't even-

I send back a confused "What!" and report my attention to the other dude, who obviously took my order way too seriously and looks almost blue from holding his breath. Apparently, muscles and brains really actually don't coincide.

"What was I saying?" I ask him.

"You were talking about easy girls," he answers matter-of-factly.

"Right. Well, I didn't sleep with Sasuke last night. I don't even know how come _he_ had my phone," I reply dryly.

"Oh. Good. You'll go out with me, then?"

**Bzzzzzz. Bzzzzzz. Bzzzzzz.**

I look at my phone again. It's Sasuke. _Again_.

_**FROM:**_

_**Sasuke**_

_**I want to talk to you.**_

_**Be there.**_

_**12:51P Thurs Jan 21**_

He wants to talk to me. Well, shit. Thank you, Karma, I really needed that. Can't he just be like any other college student and respect the privacy of his one night stands? I'm not his booty call, we don't need to talk. I shouldn't even know his name.

I need to vent.

"You," I point to the dude in front of me. "What's your name?"

"Uh, Juugo," he stammers.

"What are you doing in the next thirty minutes, Juugo?" I ask, stretching my lips in a flirty (and extremely phony) smile.

"I don't know, I-" I grab his wrist and pull him toward the entrance of the cafeteria.

Once we're out, I stomp my way through the hallway and up a flight of stairs, dragging Juugo behind me. We emerge on the second floor and power-walk down a few other hallways that haven't been used since the beginning of the term for cause of imminent rebuilding (so I've heard from the lunch ladies). I stop to try a few doors and when I find one that's unlocked, I yank it open and pull Juugo through the doorway. The classroom is devoid of chairs or desks, and a thick layer of dust covers the floor. I slam the door closed with my foot, toss my bag and coat aside and push my kidnappee against the wall next to the blackboard, near a window. He grunts from the impact and raises shocked eyes to me.

"What's going on?" He asks without a hint of nerves in his confused voice. I lunge for his neck and slide my hands under his shirt.

"I'm just Sasuke's silly one night stand, won't you comfort me?" I whisper in his ear, mentally slapping myself for being so ridiculous, and then I proceed to pull his shirt off.

Somewhere deep down inside, I know shagging some random dude in an empty classroom, no matter how kinky it sounds, won't make the Sasuke situation go away, nor will it keep my mind off of it. Especially since, as I'm undressing Juugo, flashes of the night I spent with Sasuke, although blurry, keep popping up in my mind and I kind of wish this were Sasuke right now. Which, by the way, I think is completely acceptable in my case, because I only want to have sex with him, unlike him, who obviously wants to go out with me. For some reason.

"What are you doing!" Juugo asks when I unbuckle his belt.

"I'm feeding grasshoppers, what does it look like I'm doing?" I shove my mouth onto his. He responds. Good.

I mean, really, what does Sasuke see in me? He found my phone, he very probably went through my recent text messages and I gotta tell ya, that inbox ain't pretty. Texts from my mom asking me to by some milk on my way home cohabit with party invites and texts from dudes prompting me to go see them for "some Christmas fun". I can't imagine why he'd want to date such a... Okay, let's face it, I'm a whore. Or something very close to it. I mean, I've been with more guys in four months than my mother in her entire lifetime. And her first time (most awkward conversation, I swear) was when she was fourteen.

I've never really determined if I'm sleeping around to make my ex jealous or just because I get a real kick out of being a nameless chick in various guys' beds. Maybe it's a bit of both.

Juugo spins us around and pins me to the wall, his lips still locked to mine, his breath heavy. He slips his hands under my thighs and haul me up, supporting my body only with his hips. And, I don't mean that he's fat, but those are wide hips to straddle. Through the fabric of both our pants, he rubs his groin against me, and the feeling of his hardness pressed against my core sends shivers down my spine. He lifts my shirt off and licks his way from my jaw to my throat and my breasts. I tangle my fingers in his hair, trying to chase away the images of Sasuke doing sensibly the same things flashing through my mind.

My hair sticks to my sweaty forehead and my panting increases by the second. Juugo thrusts up into me and a small moan escapes from my lips. He keeps a steady pace against my pants, all the while fiddling with my bra clasp. I remember when Sasuke took off my dress. That bitchy dress that just wouldn't unclasp and unzip itself. And you know what? He took it off faster than Juugo is doing with my bra.

Still, I feel hot inside, like I'm burning. I need to get release, and I need it quickly. Finally, my bra's off. Juugo fondles and licks my breasts and goosebumps rise on my skin. My moans get louder and more plaintive as he presses up against me harder. The perspective of having, ahem... "complete intercourse" with a guy at school is both arousing and disturbing at the same time. Not that I haven't done that before (I often need to vent and this is my way to do it), but today, it feels different. It feels good, but different. As if it were more wrong than it was before.

******-**

CRAP.

Is that... the fire alarm?

"Daaah!" I yelp as Juugo lets go of me and I fall to the ground. He already out the door, yanking his shirt over his head while I'm still scrambling to retrieve my bra.

I get dressed as fast as I can and run out of the classroom. When I reach one of the staircases, hundreds of students are already fighting to climb down, talking as loudly as they can about how great or awful it is that the fire drill interrupted their classes. I get in line with them and hope to whoever is governing coincidences that I'm not in the same staircase as Juugo, or anyone else I might know.

I look at the students around me (because I have all the time in the world, those slowpokes would have us all killed at least fifteen time, were this a real fire case) and it baffles me how filthy and debauched I feel when I think I was just about to have meaningless sex with a guy I might never talk to while they were innocently studying or sleeping in class. Even the rational part of my brain telling me I didn't actually have complete sex with Juugo can't suppress the disgust I suddenly have for myself. I did end up half-naked, stuck between a guy and wall, grinding my pelvis all over his. Anyone passing by (although it was highly improbable) could've found us, and I was risking that, plus expulsion and eternal shame simply because I was mad at someone I don't even have a precise relationship with.

Oh, and he's to blame too. I can't ask me out after I've thoroughly expressed to him that I wasn't interested in going steady with anyone and not expect me to have some sort of panicked, reckless reaction. And, I realise that now, I was panicked and I was reckless because, the truth is, I'm slightly scared of him. He ninja'd his way into my brain and hasn't left since the beginning of the semester, and the mere thought of crossing him in the hallway or finding myself in the same class as him makes me nervous. For some reason, he has some form of power over me and it's scary.

We've finally climbed down the staircase and the way to the nearest school entrance is way smoother, now that we have more space to navigate in. I push through the crowd, trying to keep my hands over my ears to protect them from the blaring noise of the fire alarm, and when I finally stumble through the door and into the cold winter afternoon, I realise some sort of heavy pressure had been squeezing my chest like a death grip and take in a deep breath to make it go away. My shoulders slump and as soon as I reach a patch of snow, I let myself fall to the ground, exhausted.

It takes fifteen more minutes to get everyone outside. Maybe I should just walk home, since I already have my coat and my bag. Hm, no, I should talk to Ino first. She knows about what I've been through and what I'm doing. She'd be able to tell me what to do about Sasuke.

I get up and walk back towards the school. Hopefully, I won't see neither Sasuke nor Juugo until I leave again.

_**A/N: **__There won't be anything heavier than that on the sexual side of the story, I don't think. No "complete intercourse", as she calls it. If there is, I'll warn you and I'll change the rating, but for now, I'm not really considering a full-out lemon. I guess we'll see._

_Review?_


	5. Wandering

_**A/N: **__I would like to point out that the characters, although based off of the original, are also inspired by actual people that I know. Some relationships may not make sense and some may correspond perfectly to real series fandoms. Personalities may be tweaked too, while others might be exactly the same as the originals. _

_Also, each character isn't associated to only one person. A character can be based off of more than one real person. For example, Sakura's not always based off of me, and she sometimes does and thinks things that I would never do, but that maybe my best friend or my sister would do._

_This is not really fiction anymore; it's more like romanticised events of my life and of the life of my friends._

. . .

**Wasted – Chapter 5**

**Wandering**

. . .

Turns out Ino didn't have much to say. Well, nothing besides how much of a slut I was for luring Juugo in an empty classroom and... well, you know. (Those were pretty much her actual words. I never thought I'd ever be less of a prude than her.) She left me standing alone in the middle of the Cinema department to go see her boyfriend of the month (see what I meant about being less of a prude? Her serial dating has been going on for years. You should've seen her in high school) while I was even more at a loss than before.

The long term problems scare me. I don't know what Sasuke's going to do or how or when or where he's going to do it. I might be in for more than I can handle, and I don't want to live through something that destructive again. Frivolity is not the best characteristic to lay out in front of people, but becoming an untrusting, paranoid, clinging girlfriend who annoys the hell out of everyone her boyfriend introduces her to is not something I want to become. Ever.

I'm not saying I'll never get involved with anyone for a long term relationship ever again, but it's not feasible right now. I need to heal first. I need to put what my ex has done to me in the past and move on, and I'm nowhere near that state of mind. I won't let Sasuke turn me into whatever he wants me to be. I'll keep doing what I do (even if that's every guy in school) and wait to see if I get better. Maybe I could go away and be alone for a while. You know, pick up my money and send myself to another country, just to think and focus on something else than the mess I've made of my life.

Nevertheless, I'm not going. To Sasuke's movie date thingy. I don't want to and he can't make me.

_**GET DOWN! GET DOWN! AND MOVE IT ALL AROUND! GET-**_

JESUS.

What kind of moronic imbecile programmed my ringtone to _that_!

"WHAT?" In the middle of a crowded hallway, as well, that's the epitome of subtlety. Good job, Sakura.

"Hello to you too," I hear Sasuke say on the other side of the line as calmly as the Pope on narcotics. How can that guy be so mellow? And it only makes sense _he's_ the one who changed my ringtone, so he knows it's him I'm mad at. "Like your new ringtone?" This confirms it. Bastard.

"Fuck you, Uchiha," I hiss gracefully (yes, it is possible, and yes, I pull it off brilliantly).

"Gladly, but later." I will suckerpunch his smug face in. "I've decided that by leaving it up to you to meet me, I was risking never getting to talk to you properly, so I'm picking you up."

"Oh, no need," I need to get him off my back. "I'll meet you there." Hopefully, he won't notice the blatant lie.

"I insist." Crap.

"W-well, uh..." Must find something to say quickly. Uh... Oh! "How do you know you'll find me?" Ha! I know he won't. I know many hiding places, as much inside the school perimeter as outside it. By the time he gets here (I don't actually know _where_ he is exactly), I will be long gone.

**Tap tap.**

The person tapping me on the shoulder will have to wait, I'm too busy making an escape plan and being smug at Sasuke through my phone to attend to him or her. And after, I can't let anybody see where I'm going to hide. I know I'm being childish, and instead of running away from him, I should be mature and grown up, confront my fear and, well, him, but I can't. Not right now. I made out with a stranger out of an almost irrepressible desire to avenge my wounded pride and reputation, plus out of a dire need to vent. I'm not about being mature and grown up, today. Why? Shut up. That's why.

"Turn around." Since when is my phone in surround sound?

Oh.

Oh shit.

I've never turned around so slowly and with so much dread before in my life. And there he is. Oooh boy, is he there, with that smirk, and those eyes and those shoulders and those abs and those eyes and those arms and those eyes and-... Right. He's there.

"You ready?" he asks, snapping his phone shut.

"Asdfghjkl." I get the world record for most coherent statement in the history of statements. He gets the record for most annoying (and appealing) smirk in the universe.

Oh, and I just thought of something. Who wants to talk in a cinema? What kind of a stupid date location is that? If he wanted to talk to me, he would've invited me over to his house, or at least out for a walk in a park or a shopping mall. In fact, I should tell him right now. Because no way am I sitting down in a dark room with him for two hours and only getting annoyed "Shhhhh!" from other spectators and permanent expulsion as rewards. I'm not risking to be banned for life from the most important place in my life (and also the greatest place to do homework assignments. Thank you, cinema program) for that dude, no matter how handsome and determined and fulfilling in bed he is.

Believe it or not, being annoying is kind of a deal breaker.

Oh.

Oooooh...

Well, that's a genius idea.

Before my brain can actually register it, I'm already sitting in his car (_his_ car, not the big black one with the chauffeur. God, I hate that word) and he's driving towards the general direction of the cinema. I'm only presuming that's where he's getting me, because almost the entire town stands between our school and the cinema, but this is the right road to get to it. Hopefully, he won't bring me to a secluded warehouse, rape me, murder me, cut off my hair, tie me with it and then dump me in a river somewhere. Oh, and especially the river part; the one that crosses town is the most polluted in the country. I swear, it produces mutated fish and a suspicious overcooked broccoli odour. At some points, it's only a foot deep and we can't see the bottom. That's how opaquely brown and muddy it is.

Anyway, my point is, Sasuke could be driving me anywhere, including the cinema and a secluded warehouse.

Soon, we're in the cinema's parking lot, the car is off and we're staring each other down. Or, well, each other's face. At this hour, the sun is already setting and the orange-ish sunlight creates odd colours in Sasuke's hair and eyes (okay, so I'm looking close enough to see the colour in his eyes, which is still to be determined, because whether it's grey or blue or just black, it's very difficult to differentiate with the orange light impairing my judgement. I just know that they're dark). For a brief moment, I wonder what it must look like with my green eyes, but the reason of our togetherness brings me back to the matter at hand.

"You wanted to talk to me," I say, my voice rendered raspy from saliva catching in my throat. "Talk."

He chuckles. He looks good when he chuckles.

Get a grip, Sakura. Jesus.

"So business-like. We should exchange programs," he says in a low voice. "Let's go inside."

Wait, he was serious? He really wants us to intentionally disrupt the public peace with a (pointless) conversation about his feelings and how he wants to date me because I'm so incredibly awesome in everything I do (_God_, do I sound conceited)?

"How are we supposed to talk if we go inside? In case you weren't aware, cinemas aren't made for talking." Seriously, doesn't he know that at all?

"We won't bother anyone, we'll have an entire auditorium to ourselves," Sasuke replies, a mischievous smirk on his face.

"What's _that_ supposed to mean? What, you think we're gonna... In there?" As much as a little voice in my head tells me I should be more concerned about his mental health, a small part of me wishes sex is what he has in mind. A very, _very _small, microscopic part.

"Well..." he hesitates for a second, then widens his grin. "You never know."

And that right there is probably the sexiest thing I've ever had someone say to me. The look in his eyes, obvious and indescribable at the same time, raises goosebumps on my skin and makes something tighten in the pit of my stomach. There is not a drop of worry left in my brain, only that really strong and invasive desire to pounce on something, in this case the man sitting right next to me, a feeling I usually get only when I'm drunk, hot and bothered. And yet, right now, in my perfectly sober state, I almost can't find it in me to stay put in my seat.

I remember again the night we spent together two months ago, and how I felt the exact same pinch in my lower abdomen all evening until I'd actually landed in his bed and gotten all that I'd worked for during the Winter Formal. I seriously need to get a grip if I want to leave this place without his saliva anywhere on me.

"You never said anything about sex. You only told me you wanted to talk," I grumble. I'm pretty sure he's getting brainwaves of my own depraved thoughts. My whole body's emanating mindless desire and he can probably feel it through some kind of telepathic bond we somehow have. Or maybe it's just the "fuck me" eyes I'm making.

"I _did_ never say anything about sex. You only assumed that was what I meant."

Oh, shut up.

"And the simple fact that you did makes it obvious that it's what _you_ want to happen," he continues.

That... That's cheating! Oh, this is _so_ embarrassing.

"Although," he leans towards me, his eyes piercing through mine. "I wouldn't say no to another metaphorical roll in the sheets."

Tch, pervert.

"Especially knowing what you're capable of."

He's getting way too close for my comfort. My only options at this point are either jump out of the car and run home or stay and fuck his brains out. I'd be lying if I said the latter isn't extremely tempting at this point, but for the sake of my sanity, only the former seems like the sensible choice.

"D-did you want to see a movie or not?" Way to subtly change the subject, Sakura. Smooth.

Oh well, it looks like it worked, he's leaning away and his smirk just fell from his face. Ha! I would've slapped it off his lips sooner or later, anyway. Or kissed it. But let's not think about that. I need to get out of this car.

He doesn't answer my question and just turns his head away, looking pensive, so I take it as my cue to leave. No need to hang around here when we both wish I were somewhere else.

"Right, well, I'll be on my way, then." Please, God, let me get away from this with my underwear on. Don't let him hold me back. I promise I'll stop sleeping around and start going to church every Sunday with my grandma.

"Wait."

Crap.

"Come on, let's go watch something. Anything you want."

Gee, thanks a lot God. That's really helpful.

You couldn't just let him be a self-centered douchebag for just a little bit longer, could you? Great, now, my heart's fluttering. See what you did? You made him pleasant. Don't make men pleasant if you want me to lay off the nymphomania.

"Um... Okay, sure." I can't refuse him. I just can't. Not with that face, that voice, that smirk, those eyes. Not with those hands that make mine let go of my school bag, make them tingle when they leave while he gets out of the car and walk around to my side, and make them warm, so, _so_ warm when they pick them up again to pull me out of the vehicle. The quickly diminishing daylight makes his features look softer and my legs turn to jelly when I try to stand up. Fortunately, I'm not stupid enough to let it show and manage to stay upright, but somewhere deep down inside, I really wish I could faint so he'd catch me and carry me and put me down gently on a bench somewhere and-

Wait, what? No, I don't want to be put down gently on a bench. It's the middle of January, benches are either freezing or buried under five feet of snow. What are you thinking, silly?

Moving on.

He lets go of my hands once I'm outside – see? He can't always be a gentleman – and I retract them into my sleeves. Gloves are something I almost always leave my apartment without, considering the short distance I have to cross between there and the main school building. It may not be snowing right now, but as night time gets closer and closer, the exterior temperature gets exponentially colder and colder. I shrug to bring my scarf and collar higher over my face and ears. At least my hair's thick enough to block out most of the freezing January air.

We reach the cinema in no time and I welcome the rush of warm air that blows my hair back when we open the doors with absolute delight. I _need_ to invest in a proper hat.

"Right. Chick flick?" Sasuke asks as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Which it isn't. Because a movie about love and sex and breaking up and making up is the last thing I need, right now.

"Ew, no," I grunt. "Action flick. I need fights, explosions and sexy men." Anything to keep my mind off of him. He snorts.

The bastard.

"Good. Saves my male pride," he mutters as he walks up to one of the ticket booths. Pff. As if only _his_ pride were on the line for a rom-com. I'm a freakin' cinema student. By definition, we spit on and laugh at rom-coms. Technically, we spit on and laugh at action flicks too, but they're much more tolerated than mushy, sappy, girly chick flicks.

Of course, all my teachers would want me to watch an obscure art film at an obscure art film cinema, but I'm not in the mood. Been watching art films – of course, they're called _films_, not movies, unless we're talking about shorts, in which case they're called _shorts_ – all week long, I've had it with the underlying, the elusive and the metaphorical. I need blatant, obvious and borderline stupid.

Sasuke doesn't tell me what movie he bought us tickets for, nor does he hand me my ticket and I have to wait until we're at the door of our auditorium to find out what it is. For a douchebag, when it comes to movie choices – and listening to what girls want to see – he doesn't disappoint. He chose the perfect movie, about some dude inside a videogame looking for his dad, mostly computer generated images (the dreaded three letters of the Cinema program, CGI), almost completely shot in 3D, which means we get a pair of fake Ray-Ban glasses, something that always brings me glee and amusement, because then I can take the lenses out, wear the glasses at school and make fun of hipsters by talking about obscure art films, and finally, the entire soundtrack was created by Daft Punk. Also, it came out weeks ago, and there is absolutely no one else in the room, which, if you ask me, is the perfect movie-watching condition.

This man might be more enjoyable to hang out with than I thought.

. . .

As the credits roll, my mouth hangs open and my eyes are as wide as saucers behind my fake Ray-Bans, and I absent-mindedly wipe away the slight drool that's running down my chin while I replay every second of the movie in my head.

My toes curl at the sound of the song playing and the corners of my lips turn upward, so that I'm smiling with my mouth wide open. I emit a squeal and let myself fall backwards into my seat. I know Sasuke's looking at me, I can see him out of the corner of my eye, but I'm too busy being mind-blown and flustered at the excitement the movie filled me with. I'd seen the trailer before coming here, literalled by some dude on YouTube, and I thought it looked okay, but I wasn't prepared for the amount of awesomeness this movie would unleash on my brain.

I never thought a video game-based movie could be so good. Fine, the story's generic and predictable and it's been done before, but it was well rendered, the actors were good enough and _man_, were the visuals pretty. That's it, now I need to watch the original one from the eighties. I have to. It's not even optional.

"So?"

Don't burst my bubble, you smexy bastard! Let me have my goosebumps and my stomach butterflies and my buzzing ears for a little longer before I actually have to deal with you and your smug bastardness. To answer him, simply let out a shaky sigh while images of bright blue discs and sparkly explosions rush back to my mind.

"I take it you enjoyed yourself."

What, is the beatific smile on my face too subtle for you? I turn my overjoyed face towards him to give him a bigger hint and he chuckles.

"You hungry?" He asks casually. How does he do that? I can barely contain my nerves when I'm around him. And not in a good way. How is _he_ able to form a complete sentence when I have trouble putting two words together?

"I, uh... Yeah, I could, um... I could eat," I stammer like I'm sixteen again (I used to stammer a lot). His smirk stretches wider.

"Come on, then. We'll go eat something." You know, any boy his age would've made a snide comment about "eating each other" instead of that very respectful, very chick flick proposition. Why is he so different from the guys I usually hang out with? I mean, sure, he came on to me earlier, but he never actually made a move to take my clothes off. He's... I can't put my finger on it, he's... Wait for it... It's right on the tip of my tongue, he's...

Charming! That's what he is! He's charming.

It's kinda sad, when you think about it, that it's what differentiates him from the male portion of my social life.

Well, he's probably faking it, anyway. You know, just to get in my pants.

It makes me feel weird, walking out with him. I feel almost guilty, as if something naughty happened between us during the movie. I mean, we _were_ completely alone in the auditorium the whole time. Nothing happened and I know it, but I still feel like everyone in the cinema is staring at us. Then again, maybe it's just the way we're acting like an actual couple that's making me self-conscious.

Because we're not. A couple, I mean.

We both stay silent as we walk out of the cinema and climb back into his car. It's completely dark out, now, and even colder than it was two hours ago. It's difficult to think it's only 5:30. We sit still in his car for a few minutes while he waits until the engine's warm enough. Beside its low rumble, there isn't a single noise in the car. I risk a glance at him, hoping he won't catch it. I mean, I wouldn't want to give him false hopes. Or something.

The ride to the nearest fast food joint is the most awkward car ride I've ever been on, and that's after the one I got from the Uchiha family's chauffeur – nope, still hate that word – the morning I woke up in Sasuke's bed (I caught a few knowing looks in the reflection of the rearview mirror. He was judging me, I could tell). I wait until Sasuke parks the car to break the almost oppressing silence.

"So..." I probably couldn't control the trembling in my voice if my life depended on it. You know what? Screw it. I'm allowed to be nervous, and there's no way I can stop any part of my body from shaking, so I'll just let it be from now on and not let it faze me. "What did you want to talk about?"

"Let's go inside," he says abruptly, not even acknowledging my question.

Okay. Either he went back on his decision to talk to me while we were watching the movie, or he's just postponing our conversation on purpose to stress me out more. I long for it to be over, it's like an itch right in the middle of my back that I can't reach or an _Inception_-like idea that I just can't get rid of.

The one good thing about this (and that's when you really squint) is that obviously, Sasuke's not embarrassed to be seen in public with me. Which actually isn't such a good thing because I'd much rather his secret one-night stand than his public rumoured girlfriend.

Nevertheless, I follow him inside the restaurant, fumbling in my bad for my wallet. If I'm going to keep things platonic between us, the first thing to do is to pay for my own food. That makes it officially not a date, doesn't it?

Although, I must admit, that's one date standard I never quite understood. My ex-boyfriend always (well, not in the last few weeks of our relationship, but I digress) insisted on paying for my food as well as his, even though we both didn't have jobs and mostly got money from our parents. I actually was better than him at saving up, even without paying for my food when we went out.

I mean, yes, it's a nice gesture once in a while, but eventually you start shying away from more expensive meals because you worry about costing the guy too much and because he gets mad or hurt in his male pride when you suggest paying for your own food, so it's really unnecessary to do it on every single date.

Also, what happened to equality of the sexes? Why shouldn't the girl pay sometimes? Not just that, how about the age-old battle over the toilet seat? Girls who really respect themselves shouldn't whine about the seat being left up by their male cohabitant, be it their father, brother, roommate or boyfriend. If you're old enough to notice it's up, you're old enough to put it down before doing your business. Guys have to put it up, girls can put it down.

There.

Done.

Now, where is my goddamn wallet?

Oh.

Oh, sweet Jesus, no.

Please tell me I have my wallet. Please, _please_ tell me it's just hidden under my pencil case or my English notebook and not on my desk back at my apartment where I'm starting to remember I left it.

"What are you having?"

I snap my head up. Sasuke and the cashier are looking at me expectantly, waiting for me to place my order. Obviously, Sasuke didn't have the same thought about equality of the sexes, because he's about to put my order on his tab. Am I seriously the only one with common sense here?

I know I have a slightly panicked look on my face and I see Sasuke raise an eyebrow at me.

"I don't have my wallet," I blurt out.

The cashier throws a glance at Sasuke while he lets out a low chuckle. I'd find it attractive if I didn't feel so goddamn stupid. He reaches out to grab my arm and gently pulls me close.

"I'm paying, idiot," he says light-heartedly, as if I were – _oh, dear God_ – his girlfriend and this were the most natural thing in the world. As I'm not one to make a scene in public, I decide not to contest his statement. Instead, I make my order as long and expensive as I can, even while knowing full well I'll only be able to eat half of it. If that's the way he wants to play it, then I'll play along.

I'll just make sure I get some satisfaction out of it.

Five minutes later, we're sitting at a four-place table in a remote corner of the restaurant, behind a pillar so that no one can spot us from either doors and from the counter. I made sure not to sit opposite him, so that he won't try to pull anything off under the table. I glare at him diagonally while I munch on a greasy hamburger that tastes strangely of waffles. He still doesn't seem to want to have his talk, so I don't say anything.

With a bit of luck, he won't talk at all and just get me home and never speak to me again. I'd appreciate that very much. Even if I'd miss looking at his handsome face. And his broad shoulders. And his strong arms. And his broad shoulders. And his flat stomach. And did I mention the broad shoulders?

GET A GRIP, WOMAN.

Okay, so maybe it's getting a little boring, now. What is he, shy? What's intimidating about me, seriously? Five feet seven inches, pink hair, huge forehead and a ridiculous aversion to sunlight and physical exercise despite my involvement in the soccer team.

I finish my burger and unleash my unsatisfied hunger upon my fries, my shoulders slumping in boredom. It's only when I reach out for my soda that he actually speaks up.

"I had an idea," he says flatly. I take a long sip of soda to appear mildly interested (even though deep down inside, I can't wait to hear what he's got to say), but turn my eyes to him to show him I'm listening.

"We should be fuck-buddies."

"SPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPRRRRRRRRRRT" goes my soda as I spit it out from the shock.

What the fuck did he just say? Fuck-buddies!

The look I send him obviously transmits my thoughts because he immediately starts explaining himself.

"I can't stop thinking about that night we spent together," he says, still very calm and composed. "It was... mind-blowing. On so many levels."

Okay, not good. Not good at all. This sounds like a love confession. I don't want a love confession!

"But..." he continues. "I remember you saying that you weren't interested in a romantic relationship."

Yes, that's right. You remember well. Keep going in that direction.

"And, well, I'm not either. So, unless you've changed your mind, I'd like to keep seeing you, but as nothing more than friends." He pauses. "With the occasional roll in the sheets."

I'm afraid to admit his reasoning is logical. I did say I didn't want to get romantically involved with anyone, right after spending the night having him shag my brains out on every surface in his private wing of his house.

But... fuck-buddies? I only intended us to be a one-time thing. Granted, I wouldn't mind getting it on with him again, but... not perpetually. It's practically like a relationship.

He seems to misunderstand my silence.

"We can call it 'friends with benefits' if you find 'fuck-buddies' too offensive," he says, still keeping his cool.

How can he be so calm? And how can he be discussing this sort of thing in the middle of an increasingly crowded fast food joint at six o'clock in the evening?

And, "friends with benefits"? That's even worse! Now actual friendship has to be involved. And it never works anyway. Chick flicks have taught me that. When two people become friends with benefits, one of them inevitably ends up developing deeper feelings, and I don't want either of us to fall in love with the other.

"If all you want is sex," I say slowly, trying to keep my voice in check, "why didn't you just invite me back to your house? Or try something at the cinema?"

"Well, I already know how the 'benefits' part of it would go," he says with a smug smile. "So, I decided to work on the 'friend' part instead."

Why is it that he makes so much sense in such a nonsensical situation? I'm not even sure I'm awake anymore. Because, honestly, from a "not me" perspective, his plan is practically perfect. Casual but amazing humping with the sexiest man alive for the mere price of one more card to send out at Christmas.

Truly, if I weren't me and he weren't him, I'd accept right away. But he's that infuriating, overconfident, stoic prick and I'm not sure embarking on such a risky endeavour with him is what I should do right now. Or ever.

"Can... Can I think about it?" I ask carefully. He doesn't lose his smile.

"Of course," he answers. The smug bastard.

"Okay."

There's an awkward silence – on my end, anyway – for a few seconds, then he gathers his things and puts his coat back on. Jumping in line, I stuff the uneaten food in my bag and put on my own coat. We leave quickly and drive to my apartment silently.

I can barely formulate a cohesive thought as heaps of words and images collide in my brain and I climb out of his car without uttering a single word. I barely notice that he waits until I'm inside to drive off and race down to my room to avoid getting questioned by my roommates.

What should I do? Should I accept?

I mean, on one hand, I promised myself I wouldn't get involved in anything more than one-night stands and occasional booty calls. Accepting would be going against that promise and against every alarm going off in my head reminding me that a "friends with benefits" relationship is never _ever_ successful.

But... he's just so good in bed! I couldn't even tell he was drunk, that one night. And I knew he was. I can only imagine what he'd do to me while sober. My toes curl just thinking about it. Plus, I don't particularly like him, so I _know_ I'll never fall in love with him. And he seems pretty determined not to fall in love with me.

And still... I can't do this to myself. I can't risk getting hurt again. Not this soon. Not until I'm out of college. This is the time to be fooling around with every male on campus.

I'll be serious again only when I reach university.

There. I won't accept Sasuke's offer. There are plenty of other attractive men in this school and there's nothing this particular one can do to make me want to have sex with him.

Right.

Now I need a drink.

. . .

_**A/N:**__Foreshadowing is your friend. Procrastination is not. Review? Questions, comments, insults, slice of life?_

_Oh yeah, by the way, I know the formatting of the title is different from the other chapters. I'll change those soon, it's just that those files are on the server back home, so I can't access them from my apartment. I'll do it next time I go home._

_Also, it's my birthday soon (September 20__th__). I'm telling you guys just in case I don't write anything until then. Which I've promised myself I would do because I haven't written in FOREVER._


	6. Weak

**. . .**

**Wasted – Chapter 6**

**Weak**

**. . .**

Oh, I see. 

When Sasuke said he'd give me time to think about his proposition, he didn't mean he'd give me space too.

Reason why I just opened my apartment door to find him, waiting for me right outside on my doorstep while a huge, shiny black car is pulled up in the driveway, its engine rumbling lowly.

"Uh... Hi?" I'm so confused.

"Hi," he says in his usual calm tone, unfazed by my lack of positive reaction.

"What's going on? What are you doing here?"

"I'm picking you up," he says as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Why?"

"Because it's cold out."

"So? It's only a five minute walk from here to the school."

"Well, I felt like it, then," he says with a slight smile, apparently not put off at all by my lack of enthusiasm.

He grabs my bag out of my hands and heads off towards the car. Really, that man has no idea how to behave in society. He's blunt, overconfident and obviously used to always getting his way, no matter how extravagant his demands are. I sigh and follow him to the car. Two minutes later, we're already climbing out of it, Sasuke still holding my bag along with his own.

I appreciate the chivalry, but really, it's not necessary. It's actually a little awkward, considering it's the sort of thing a guy would do for a girl he's trying to seduce and, as I've established, I do not want to be seduced by him. Pulling every chick flick cliché move on me definitely won't get me in his bed and he knows it, which is the reason I don't get why he's doing it.

As soon as we're inside the main building and I've recovered my bag, I sprint away from him, making it to my American Cinema class in a record time of twenty-three seconds, which makes me nearly fifteen minutes too early. I know he hasn't followed me but I still duck for cover under my desk just in case.

The classroom slowly fills up and soon, Naruto and Ino walk in and I finally feel at ease – despite the worried looks they send me when they realise I'm crouching under my desk.

"What are you doing down there?" Ino asks, sounding strangely tired.

"Are you waiting to give someone surprise fellatio?" asks Naruto, who's never tired and whose tact and taste levels just descended in the negatives.

I send him a glare and stand up. Usually, Ino would slap him upside the head for me, but she doesn't do anything. She simply sinks down in the chair next to mine and rests her head on her desk with a small groan. I sit down and lean towards her.

"What's wrong?" I ask in the softest voice possible.

"I went to the party you two losers failed to attend last night," she snaps.

"Hey! It was my and Hinata's first anniversary yesterday. I already told you I wouldn't go," Naruto says, slightly offended. Ino signals him to lower his voice.

"What about you, young lady?" she says to me. "What's your excuse?"

I don't have one. Well, not a good one anyway. When I got home, I was so shaken I completely forgot. I didn't even do homework. I just sat on my bed, replaying my afternoon over and over in my head, just to make sure I hadn't dreamt all of it. Ino seems to take my silence for an apology.

"Anyway," she says. "Some dudes brought weed last night."

"Did you-"

"I didn't touch it."

"Oh. Then why-"

"Kakeru did," she sighs.

Kakeru is Ino's current boyfriend. They've only been dating (loose term) for two weeks but she seems to really like him, and quite frankly, I like him more than her previous ones. He's much more decent to talk to and seems to actually know how to count to a hundred.

"Aaaand?" Naruto presses on.

"And I woke up on his couch this morning. Fully clothed."

"So?"

"I went to his room to see if he was there."

"I think I know where this is going."

"He was there alright. Naked. With some random dude I've never seen before. They were _spooning_."

"Ouch."

"_You think?_ I didn't even wake them up, I just left."

I slowly pat her back. She rarely cries over boys, especially in public, but I know she needs comforting, right now. I don't say anything, because words simply won't do in this situation. I can't say "It's okay" because it very obviously isn't okay, I can't say "Don't worry, there are plenty of other guys out there" because she's slept with half of them and I've slept with the other half, and I can most definitely not say "If it makes you feel any better, I have a stalker who wants us to be fuck-buddies" because absolutely nothing can make her feel better, not even that.

The lights suddenly go out and a guy (whose voice everyone recognizes as Shiro's, a dude we all agree should become a comedian) starts mock-screaming that he's scared of the dark. Then we hear the mechanism of the giant screen being rolled out.

"I've got a real treat for you guys," Kakashi says, coming from somewhere near the door.

After three semesters' worth of classes with Kakashi, none of us feel too sure as to what he means by "real treat". We do know he's a closet pervert, but surely he wouldn't show us porn. An art film with nudity, maybe, but not porn. Besides that, he has a really weird definition of a good movie. He hates anything mainstream that falls in the "action flick" or "chick flick" categories, he dislikes filters, special effects, CGI and most of all, lens flares.

So, really, a "real treat" movie in his tastes is something from the Dogma95 era of filming from Denmark that can get _really_ boring at times. Which gets me to thinking "What the fuck is he gonna show us?"

"Today, kids, we're watching the ultimate American movie," he says excitedly. "The one movie that incorporates pretty much everything that American cinema is about. The American dream, the common man, the self-made man, the melting pot... the _love story_."

A few girls squeal. We very rarely watch movies that are introduced to us by talking about its love story. Ino grunts next to me and I hear her head bang down on her desk.

"What is it, sir?" Shiro asks. He's the only student who calls Kakashi "sir" because he thinks it's funny, mainly because of the fact that Kakashi's first words to us three semesters ago was that he didn't want to be called "sir".

"We're watching _Rocky_!"

Hell _yeah_!

Actually, wait... Does that mean _Rocky_ is an art film?

WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME THIS BEFORE!

. . .

"ADRIAAAAAAAAAAAN!"

"JESUS CHRIST, NARUTO, SHUT UP ALREADY."

"Just because your love life is miserable doesn't mean everyone should suffer with you. Right, Sakura?"

"Uuuh..." It takes me a few seconds to process his question as I spot Sasuke waiting in the hallway a few feet away from Naruto's girlfriend, Hinata, who's sending him nervous sideways glances and fiddling with one of the strings on her sweater. "I'm with Ino on this one, Naruto. Stop yelling."

"HINATAAAAAAAAAA!" He shows his lack of listening skills by mimicking the movie and calls out to his girlfriend.

She approaches us, intently watched by Sasuke, who seems to be frowning.

"What's he doing here?" I whisper to Hinata, trying very hard not to look at him.

"I-I don't know," she whispers back, looking more nervous by the second. "H-he asked me if I was going to meet Naruto. I said yes and he f-followed me here."

"Hm, maybe he wants to borrow Dead Space again," Naruto says. I whip my head towards him.

"You two know each other?" I ask, perfectly conscious that I'm not hiding my surprise at all.

"Yeah, he and Hinata had to team up for a project last semester," Naruto says matter-of-factly, obviously unaware of the slight panic in my question.

"M-my father doesn't let me have a b-boy over or go to one's h-house, so we did m-most of the work in Naruto's room," Hinata chimes in.

"But... Didn't you say you weren't allowed to go to a boy's house?" I ask, forgetting about Sasuke for a second.

"If I g-go during free periods, my father c-can't tell the difference," Hinata says with a slight smile. "A-and in the evenings, I j-just tell him I'm s-staying in the library."

"You mean you _lie_? To your _father_?" Ino asks in disbelief, taking the words right out of my mouth.

"Y-yes," Hinata answers slowly, apparently worried she shouldn't have told us, but Ino's face breaks out into an enormous smile.

"Oh, I'm so proud of you!" She lungs at Hinata and gives her a bone-crushing hug.

"Hey, Sakura?" Naruto calls.

"Yeah?"

"Sasuke's staring at you."

I look over. Naruto's right, he _is_ staring at me. In fact, he's glaring. And not blinking.

"I'll take care of it," I say, not at all feeling the courage in my voice.

"Wait, you know him too?" Naruto asks after me.

I don't answer. I simply march up to Sasuke, grab his arm and pull him away without a word. I bring him through corridors and corridors until I reach the empty area of the school, where I brought Juugo yesterday. However, instead of going into the same classroom, I shove Sasuke inside the girls' bathroom, drop my coat and bag to the floor and close the door behind us.

Even if I know nobody ever comes here, I still check the stalls to make sure no one's here, just in case. Finally, I turn to face Sasuke. He's standing in the middle of the floor, hands in his pockets, looking deeply annoyed and slightly uncomfortable. I camp my feet and cross my arms over my chest, trying desperately to get my body to convince my brain of my determination not to be softened by his glorious presence.

"Why are you here?" I ask, perfectly aware that my voice is not representative of my body language.

"You brought me here," Sasuke answers flatly.

"That's not what I meant,"

"That's what you asked." I sigh, feeling my uneasiness morph into frustration.

"I meant, why did you seek me out?"

"To find you."

"_Why?_"

"To ask you to have lunch with me." With his tone, you'd think this is the most natural situation to be in and the most obvious answer to give me.

"Why?" I repeat.

"'Cause we're friends."

"We are not-..." I sigh, trying to repress my anger and to avoid being rude. It's not like he actually deserves me to be a bitch. "I asked you to give me time to think about it."

"I have."

"No you haven't."

"I have. You've had all night to think."

"I need more time than that!" Why is he walking towards me?

"What for?" And why does he suddenly have a triumphant smirk on his face?

"W-well, what you're asking for is n-not exactly the most rea-... reasonable request," I stammer as he closes in on me. "I mean, you're a-asking me to commit to a t-technically non-committed relationship."

He backs me up against the sinks and presses his hips against mine, his large, warm hands circling my waist.

"And?" His face is mere inches from mine.

"A-and you know I..." Damnit, I can't even form a proper sentence. Pull it together, idiot! "I... I don't... want to be in a c-commi-..."

And suddenly, I can't speak.

Because I have his tongue shoved down my throat.

And _man_, it feels good. He raises one of his hands from my waist to my neck to hold me in place and presses his other hand to my back to pull me closer. I feel so warm and fuzzy inside, I don't even find the strength not to kiss back. I've completely turned to mush, and now I'm worried I might spontaneously combust.

No, arms, don't go around his neck! Stay down! He'll think we're into this.

Well, we are, but _he_ doesn't need to know that!

Oh dear, he's picking me up.

And now I'm sitting on the counter, with my legs around his hips. We have officially entered dangerous territory.

His hands roam my body, sometimes resting on my shoulder blades, sometimes pulling my hips closer to his, and eventually, his mouth leaves mine and starts tracing my jaw all the way down to my neck while my breaths become heavier by the second and sound more and more like moans.

His hands find their way under my shirt and lift it up over my head. He throws it on the ground and puts his hands back on me. The warmth of his skin against mine sends shivers down my spine.

He reaches around to unclasp my bra and suddenly, my brain recovers its functionalities and I start thinking straight again.

"Wait!" I shove Sasuke away. He lets go immediately and quickly takes a few steps backwards, away from me.

I don't know what kind of expression is on my face, but I hope it's somewhere between flustered, guilty and horrified, because that's what I'm feeling right now. I raise my eyes to meet his and my heart skips a beat.

If I don't look guilty, he's downright smiling.

But... it's a guilty smile. Like a kid who knows what he did is wrong and who's really sorry for doing it but actually enjoyed every second of it.

It's both adorable and incredibly hot and _oh my God, I need to stop thinking these things_. But, it is, and it's also... sort of heart-wrenching. Because I feel the same way and... I don't know, he just looks so sincere. And he hasn't even said a single word yet.

I'll speak, then.

"I..." My voice comes out raspy and I'm having a really hard time coming up with words. "I... I'm sorry."

Well, that was a good try, Sakura.

I slide down from the counter, pick up my shirt and slip it back on. I pick up my snow coat and my bag and walk to the door. Just as I'm about to yank it open, I hear his voice.

"I'm sorry too."

I stop dead in my tracks. So he actually is sorry. It wasn't just my imagination. I turn back to him, locking my eyes to his again.

"Why did you do it, then?"

He hesitates for a second, his eyes not leaving mine, as if he were debating whether he should tell me what he's thinking or not. Then he opens his mouth again.

"Because I knew you wouldn't stop me right away," he says, his smile now more apologetic than guilty. It might not sound like it, but there's a difference.

"Why?" What made him so confident? Do I just seem that easy?

"You've had all night to think about my proposition."

"I already told you, I need more-"

"If you really didn't want it, you would've already told me no."

I stay silent. Because I know he's right. And now, I need to ask myself some serious questions. I turn around again and head out.

Oh God, please tell me he's not following me. I really need to be away from him, now, because I'm not sure I can control myself around him anymore.

I walk around a corner and spot Ino a few feet ahead. I don't need to ask how she knew I was here because I told her that's where I go when I need some privacy. She notices the look on my face – whatever it is – and her eyebrows furrow in worry.

"Oh, Sakura," she walks to me, holding out her arms to hug me. I accept it gladly. "Did you and Sasuke-"

"No. But we almost did."

"Is that a good thing?" Oh right, I haven't told her everything about my and Sasuke's situation.

"That we didn't is. That we almost did is catastrophic."

"Why?"

"Not here," I put my coat on. "He's still nearby and I really can't be around him right now. I need a distraction."

Ino, who already has her coat on, wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me towards the stairs.

"I have good news for you, then. Naruto's in charge of the Party-A-Thon again. He's organising it with a bunch of his friends."

The Party-A-Thon is a tradition in the Cinema program's history going back generations. After two weeks of normal school attendance – except for the occasional party organised by another program – every student of the program is invited to attend a series of parties going on every two nights for two weeks, the locations spread between second year students' apartments and clubs in the city, so that one can't host a party two nights in a row, just in case he needs to recover. The whole point of this tradition is sort of the initiation process for the first years, during their first semester, as well as to see who can survive the longest without collapsing in school.

Last semester was Naruto's first time organising it and everyone had an awesome time. It was actually during that Party-A-Thon that I lost my virginity. Naruto had decided to open up week two with getting all of us on a private list for a VIP room in a club. I don't remember who I left with, and I don't remember if I liked it or not, but I remember waking up a little nauseous but very happy.

I honestly can't wait to go back to that. Two weeks of not caring who's filming me flashing my boobs, two weeks of not caring who I make out with, two weeks of not caring where I wake up, two weeks of not caring about anything, especially not Sasuke.

"That is good news," I say, already feeling better.

"Come on," Ino says as we climb down the stairs. "Tell me about you and Sasuke before I lose all my ability to remember anything."

"Ugh, Ino..."

"Please! Just the general idea. And then we forget about it for two weeks."

She always has the right words to convince me.

. . .

_**A/N:**__ I can't believe it! I've managed to update in less than a week! I'm so proud. Review?_

_(Only five days till my birthday! -cheers-)_


	7. Won

_**A/N: **__Remember how I said I most likely wouldn't write a full lemon? Well, scratch that. I'm going to try again. It's my birthday, I'm gonna make myself happy._

_So, yeah, I'm changing the rating. I was already thinking about it, but I wasn't too sure that what I'd written so far was graphic enough to be worth it. However, __SasuSaku Forever and Ever__ told me that she thought maybe it should be rated M and I thought "You know, if she noticed, other readers must have, too", so I decided to change it._

. . .

**Wasted – Chapter 7**

**Won**

. . .

There's only one hour left to my suffering. The last two weeks until today were absolute hell. Sasuke kept popping up everywhere, trying to corner me in various empty corridors or ambush me to pull me into broom closets. He followed my every move as if he'd put a tracking device on me, and kept harassing poor Hinata to tell him where my classes were.

I kept either Ino or Naruto close to me every time I walked around school, just to make sure I wasn't left alone and easy to target. I even recruited Temari this morning to leave the apartment with me. Mostly, I tried to avoid looking at him directly, just in case their permanent smolder made me melt inside and jump his bones on the spot.

Because that's what I've wanted to do every single second of those two weeks. Every time I'd see him walk around a corner or lean against a wall to wait for me in a perfect pose of studied hotness, I'd feel my heart start beating faster and warmth pool between my legs. At night, I'd have flashbacks of all the times our skin had come in contact, all the times I'd felt his lips against mine and all the times his hands had roamed over my body, and I'd wake up covered in sweat and in dire need of a change of underwear.

And I've been trying to avoid that, because I can't think clearly about his proposition if my body keeps overpowering my brain. Plus, it's really bad for my grades.

But now.

Now, I'm in the safety of Ino's bedroom, biting my tongue as I try to apply eyeliner without smudging it everywhere, while my best friend struggles to decide between two shades of nail polish, and I believe I have nothing to worry about. Sasuke's not going to show up at any instalment of the Party-A-Thon, his grades wouldn't survive it. The Administration program, unlike Cinema, requires the students' entire dedication to homework and exams, and that, all throughout the semester.

"Seriously, Forehead, which one? Temptress red or Slut silver?"

"Hm, depends on what kind of message you want to send out. You intend to be tempting or slutty?"

"I'll go for Slut silver. I'll use Temptress when I need to recover."

So, no Sasuke to ruin my fourteen day-long fun. I am a free woman, and I will enjoy every single moment of this liberation, starting with a semi-sleepover party at Ino's to get ready for the first night, opening in her and Naruto's apartment in forty-five minutes.

Once I finish this masterful painting of my face and get my shoes on my feet, I'll be ready to step downstairs, swallow three of four shots of whatever alcohol Naruto got us to get myself started, and then completely forget about the concept of time and space for two weeks.

Goodbye, world.

. . .

. . .

. . .

How did this happen?

No, seriously, how did I get here?

Twenty minutes ago, I was innocently getting drunk at yet another Party-A-Thon party (I'm not entirely sure what day we are, but I do know that week two is in full swing), having the time of my life with Cinema people and their stranger plus ones without a care in the world. Let's trace back, shall we?

I remember, I arrived slightly late, for no discernable reason, and immediately zeroed in on the refreshment table, still seeking to forget the miserable two weeks I'd spent trying to avoid any Sasuke-related temptation, something I'd been relatively successful with, considering I hadn't been in contact with his tongue or junk in nearly twenty-three days.

I was at my fifth beer and then... I don't know. Maybe someone pulled me out of the apartment and into the freezing cold March weather, or maybe I just wandered off on my own. The latter is the most plausible, I've been feeling zombie all day, it probably transpired in my way of being wasted. Usually, when I'm completely shitfaced, I tend to find an empty and crowd-lacking spot to get stark naked and dance like a drunk, beheaded turkey. I now know there are no such places outside the apartment, but it probably slipped my mind at the time.

I remember spotting trees and stop signs, but at this point, they're really no help at all. I have no idea where I am, I'm cold and I desperately need to use the bathroom. There really is no other thought going through my brain except for "Must. Use. Bathroom.

BATHROOM.

GAH."

Wait, my journey's not done yet. There was someone with me. I think it was a dude. That wouldn't surprise me at all, I probably dragged him out to have a little fun time with him. (That's just the kind of drunk I am. Get out, get naked and get laid. And the whole Sasuke ordeal is _not_ a valid reason not to have sex with anyone else.) Unless he was the one to pull me away from my fun. In which case, he's a douche.

I think we talked. Or maybe yelled. I don't know. We most probably had a fight. That's what the sane and sober part of my brain (even as microscopic as it is) seems to remember. Something uncomfortable, unpleasant to talk about. Did I ever have sex with him? I think I did. Otherwise he wouldn't have confronted me. I don't remember either where, when or why, but we most definitely shagged.

What? I don't keep tabs. Sue me.

Oh wait, I remember something. Something about Sasuke, I'm sure. About boycotting him or something. Who is that dude, anyway? And what business does he have meddling with my private affairs? I don't poke into his dirty little secrets, do I? At least I have some morals.

Key word being "some".

Still, what right does he have to talk about the one person I really want to forget everything about at this very moment? Sasuke seems to see me as a toy, a life-sized female toy he can play with to his liking, not even bothering to consider my opinion. I'm like his blow-up doll, only with a pulse.

And then... I think I walked off. Or he did. The point is, now, I'm lying in cold, wet grass, staring up at the stars without really registering anything I'm seeing, and I'm alone. Oh, no, wait, someone just bent over me.

"You done sulking, now?" The shadow asks in a deep voice that my clouded, fuzzy brain seems to recognise.

What does he mean, sulking? I was sulking? No I wasn't! I'd remember it if I were, and I'd remember the reason. I sit up quickly, ready to call him up on his mistake.

And then I instantly regret it. My stomach churns, my heart skips a beat and my blood starts pounding against my eardrums. I see black spots everywhere and even while sitting down, I feel unbalanced. And yet, I start being more conscious of my surroundings.

Hang on. I know this feeling.

I'm sobering up.

Oh, no! I don't want to! I'll start feeling sad and tired and nausea will take over, and I won't be able to puke because I'm never able to puke and I'll feel terrible and dirty and I don't want that! Somebody get me a shot of vodka!

The shadow sinks to his knees next to me and grabs my shoulders.

"Sakura!" He calls.

Oh, everything stopped spinning. My ears have stopped buzzing. My heart is calming down. My stomach is returning to its normal spot in my belly. My breathing becomes even. My vision clears.

And suddenly, I don't hear anything. All the sound is gone. But I don't care. I don't care that I'm cold. I don't care that my butt is wet. I don't care that there's grass in my hair, mud on my shoes and beer all over my sweater. I don't care because it's Sasuke.

It's Sasuke who's holding my shoulders. It's Sasuke who just said my name. It's Sasuke who's looking at me with something I can only describe as either concerned tenderness or tender concern. Either way, I start feeling all warm inside and I realise just how close his face is.

Because, really, what do I care if he's overconfident? What do I care if he's a smug bastard? What do I care if he's been annoying the shit out of me for the past two weeks? I want him and he very clearly wants me, and there's absolutely nothing stopping me from jumping his bones right now besides my own stubborn self.

Well, no more!

I crash my mouth to his and close my eyes. If in five seconds he hasn't kissed me back then-...

Oh my God! He's kissing me! He's pulling at my bottom lip and pushing his tongue in. Lord, thunder and Jesus, he's kissing me and it feels _good_! He's placing my arms around his neck and bringing me closer to him. Oh, I am _definitely_ getting some tonight. And if I'm lucky, I might be getting so right here, in this park.

He pulls me in his lap and-

Hold on. What's that?

A warm bubble of _something _just popped between my legs, but it's not the pleasant kind of warm I was expecting. And it's spreading.

I'm not peeing myself, am I?

"Sasuke, let me up," I say shakily. He lets go of my shoulders. I scramble to my feet and stand motionless for a few seconds. "Turn around," I tell him, hearing the urgency in my own voice.

He spins around quickly, probably completely confused, and I immediately thrust my hand down my pants and into my panties. What? I'm drunk, it's fine. Just as long as Sasuke isn't looking. I pull a trembling hand out and stare in horror at the warm, red liquid on the tip of my fingers.

No. _No._ This can't be happening. Not now. Not when I've finally come to my senses about this gorgeous, perfect male that's looking at me with a worried (but still so very hot) look on his face.

Please, _please_, Mother Nature.

Not my period.

. . .

. . .

. . .

"Okay, say that again, but slower," Ino says, frowning, her Temptress-painted fingers pressed to her temples.

"Sasuke and I are gonna be in a non-committal but somewhat exclusive relationship," I repeat in a tone mimicking whale sounds.

"Your words are too long for this extenuated brain," she groans. "Simpler phrasing, please."

"Basically, we're gonna be fuck-buddies." My tone would be more suited for a conversation about picking daisies than one about casual sex.

"Oh, okay," she replies as if I'd just told her I was considering buying a new vacuum cleaner. She hesitates for a few seconds. "Wait, is that a good thing? Last I remember, you wanted to get as far away from him as possible."

"Hm, I did. But I don't anymore."

"What changed?"

"I'm not sure, but I'm gonna guess my level of oestrogen."

"Hm," she pauses, contemplative (or maybe just spacing out). "Makes sense."

_**GET DOWN! GET DOWN! AND MO-**_

I _really_ need to change my ringtone.

"Hello?"

"I'm here," Sasuke says on the other end of the line. I smile.

"I'll be right out."

I'm one of those unlucky girls whose periods can last up to five days or more, complete with very heavy flow and almost unbearable cramps before, during and after. I know this isn't particularly fun information to share, but what I'm trying to say, basically, is that despite having accepted Sasuke's proposition, I haven't been able to consummate our agreement since the start of my period, which pretty much means that I've been waiting for five days to get my itch scratched.

At first I didn't think it wouldn't be a big deal. I've had dry spells longer than five days before, I thought I could survive that one easily. But for some reason, I've been yearning to have him inside of me more than I ever have for anyone else. It's quite disconcerting, and I've managed to find two possible reasons for it.

One, girls are horny during their periods. So it could simply be that, but it's never been at such a level before. So, reason number two, my body remembers the last time it got down to business with Sasuke's, and now that my brain has given it the go ahead to fuck _his_ brains out, my body can't accept anything other than him, as it would be a considerable downgrade.

However, five days ago, we decided to stay away from each other for as long as I'd be bleeding from the one place that needs to be available for intercourse (as Ino puts it, because she's too immature to say "vagina"), because he didn't want to have to stop halfway through and I didn't want to have to make him stop. Simple foreplay for nearly a week would be either complete torture or a really annoying spoiler which would make the actual sex less exciting.

Because, and I've only realised this a few hours ago (at the same time as I was texting Sasuke that my period was over), he's about to be the first man I ever have sex with while sober. And that's something I definitely didn't see coming and it actually makes me kind of nervous.

My first time, I didn't care at all, I was just trying to erase any trace of my ex, and I counted on the fact that if I ended up hurting me, I wouldn't remember anyway because I was too drunk. The other times after that are all blurry and the only thing that I remember clearly about them is getting out of the guys' beds or cars and get a cab to my apartment. And that one night with Sasuke four months ago, all I remember besides the events of the next morning is that it felt incredibly good. Everything else is quite foggy in my brain.

But this time, I'll actually be conscious of everything. I'll be able to remember the feel of everything he does to me, and revel in it, and appreciate it for everything it is. And, if anything, I'll be able to stay awake for another round – if another round there is, of course, because it could turn out to be quite exhausting the first time – instead of falling asleep like the hopeless drunk I usually am.

Yeah. This time, it'll be special. Not "first time with boyfriend or anyone" special, but special nonetheless.

Am I supposed to be this nervous?

"He's here?" Ino asks, looking at her nails in indifference.

"Yeah," I reply, still smiling, pulling my snow coat on.

"So you're not going to the final night?"

"Nope."

"Naruto's gonna be disappointed. Oh well, have a good evening, then." She addresses me a knowing smirk. "And a good night." I roll my eyes.

"Thanks, Ino." I step towards her door.

"Did you brush your teeth?" She asks before I can walk out. I stop and turn to her.

"Yes."

"Did you take a proper shower?"

"Yes."

"What kind of underwear are you wearing?"

"The first thing I found this morning."

"Is it sexy?"

"... Sort of? It's underwear, it's always a little bit sexy."

"Not granny panties."

"I don't own granny panties. Besides, clothes are meant to be taken off during sex."

"Hm, you've told me about a few times where you didn't follow that rule."

"Bye, Ino." I open her door and step outside.

"USE PROTECTION!" She yells after me.

"Yes, mom."

"Oh, and, Sakura?"

"_What?_"

"I'm proud of you."

"Shut up."

Finally, I'm outside and anything else Ino has to say is muffled by the closed door of her apartment. I stay on the doorstep for a few seconds, taking in the image of the big, shiny black car waiting in the driveway, and Sasuke, leaning against it, his arms crossed over his chest to keep warm and a small smile stretching his lips.

We both stand there, looking at each other. At the sight of him, all the signs of nervousness I thought were just some sort of pre-show jitters increase tenfold and I have to wonder how I was ever able to refuse him in the past. It might sound terribly cheesy, but I can feel some sort of electric current pass between us and I just know he's been yearning for this as much as I have, if not more.

I walk to him, slightly shaking (though I can't tell if it's because I'm cold or because I'm nervous) and stop a few inches away from him. He leans away from the car and opens the door for me. Again, the chivalry is useless but appreciated nonetheless. I climb into the warmth of the car and slide to the end of the seat. Sasuke soon joins me.

I carefully avert his eyes the whole ride to his house, perfectly aware that only the driver (_fine_, chauffeur)'s presence is refraining my desire to jump Sasuke. Mercifully, the drive is short-lived and soon, we're walking through his front door. I barely notice that he's taken my coat off my shoulders that already, he's pulling me up the stairs, probably as eager as I know I am.

He closes his bedroom door behind me, not bothering to turn the lights on, and presses me against it, crashing his mouth to mine. I can feel his hard-on against my stomach. Not wasting a second more, I grip the hem of his shirt and pull it over his head. I have half a second to marvel at the sight of his naked torso before he kisses me again, his tongue dancing around mine. He backs up towards where I'm pretty sure is his bed, pulling me with him. He nearly rips my shirt off of me and throws it on the ground, his hands then going to grab my head.

Mine fly to his pants, unbuttoning and unzipping my way to what I've been craving for five days. As I pull down his pants and underwear and reveal his raging erection, I start to kneel, because I don't know any guy who doesn't like a blow job as foreplay. My knees haven't even touched the ground, however, that he pulls me up by the arms and sets me on my feet.

I try to ask him why with my eyes (I don't trust my voice at this point) but he simply kisses me again and pulls me down on his bed, where he proceeds to take my pants and underwear off of me, and suddenly, it feels like his hands are everywhere at once.

They roam over my chest, slide down my back and grip my hips, and oh my God, does it feel good. I lose track of what he's doing, too busy being overwhelmed by the pleasure swarming my body. I don't even bother keeping my voice down, and my moans get louder and louder by the second.

I only regain consciousness when he has two fingers up my vagina and his thumb pressing against my clitoris and I'm letting out a long, strangled scream. My hands fist the sheets and I feel my toes curl. His mouth is kissing my stomach, sometimes rising higher to my breasts but never sinking lower.

And then he's above me, kissing me again, his fingers gone from inside me. One of his arms slips under my back, pulling me up to him while he leans towards his bedside table, reaching for a condom. He apparently finds one because he lets go of me temporarily, I'm guessing to put it on. In a second, he's gathered me in his arms again and brings the covers over us.

He grips my butt and puts my legs around his hips. Then, one of his hands slips between us and he grabs his penis, directing it towards me. He enters me slowly but without hesitation and my eyes roll back inside my head.

I knew being sober would make me feel things better, but I didn't think it would make that much of a difference. My already sensitive walls throb against his erection and I move my hips to gain more friction, a long moan escaping my lips. He apparently doesn't feel up to teasing me and immediately thrusts up inside me, releasing a strained groan.

He leans down to press himself against me and circles my back with his arms. My arms slide around his neck and my fingers tangle themselves in his hair dampened by his sweat. He pushes himself a few inches over, creating more pressure on my clitoris with his pelvic bone and gives more powerful thrusts. He lowers his mouth to mine but I barely manage to kiss him once before I open my mouth to gasp at the incredible sensations he's giving me.

His hands leave my back to go grab my thighs and pull them higher up on his hips and I can't help but glance in between us at where our bodies are connected. His hips thrust forcefully against mine, gaining in speed. His pubic hair meshes with mine, and the sight of our legs crossed and the place where our sexes meet sends another wave of pleasure down my spine. The sound of his grunts, mixed with my moans and the sound of flesh against flesh is all I can hear and it brings me closer to where I've wanted to be for days.

His penis inside me makes my head reel. It fills me up completely and sends jolts of pleasure up and down my spine every time he moves his hips. His thrusts get even faster and become more erratic. I can feel the familiar swelling in the pit of my stomach building up.

His head moves up and down next to mine, his grunts loud and strangely soothing in my ear. I've long given up on meeting his movements and instead grip his shoulders to make sure I just don't fall behind. My fingers dig into his back and my heels dig into his thighs as I hold on for dear life. His mouth finds my neck and he starts sucking on it, probably leaving marks which I absolutely don't care about. In fact, I'm almost looking forward to seeing them in the mirror tomorrow morning.

I know that he's about to come, and for the first time, I think I am too. The knot in my stomach reaches a point of tension so tight it's almost unbearable, something I've definitely never felt before, and I start shaking uncontrollably. I'm no longer releasing short plaints, but long high moans as I lose any form of coherent thought. Still thrusting up inside me, he reaches in between us and presses his thumb down on my clitoris, _hard_. I let out one last long scream...

... And then all the air leaves my lungs.

Every single clenched muscle in my body suddenly relaxes and clenches up against just as fast. I see stars, my ears are buzzing and wave over wave of pleasure washes over me repeatedly as I feel my vagina clench frantically around Sasuke's penis, still moving up and down inside me. I start moaning again, now ever more sensitive to Sasuke's movements, if possible, but with all my limbs now completely limp around him.

My climax brings him over the edge quickly and he lets out a muffled cry as his hips give erratic jerks. I lift my tired legs to squeeze his hips while he lets everything go and crashes down against me, his ear pressed against mine. I pant while he lies on top of me, giving short, shaky breaths.

I slowly recover my ability to formulate a full thought and try to wrap my head around the fact that I've actually just experienced something women seldom do, especially during their teenage years with a partner their age, and find that I'm incapable. It just seems too improbable that I've just had orgasm.

And yet... I have.

I don't even my mom has.

I giggle in utter glee.

"Why didn't you tell me _that_ was what I was in for?" I ask Sasuke, still short of breath but giggly nonetheless.

He doesn't answer but starts laughing in a low, tired voice, the movement of his diaphragm making his entire frame shake against me.

. . .

_**A/N:**__ Woooaaah... This one was definitely better than the one in _A Walk To Remember_._

_By the way, according to my Author's Notes, I started this last year on my eighteenth birthday. And, well, my nineteenth birthday ended about an hour ago. It's by no means finished, but _man_, I think it's strangely fitting._

_Anyway, yeah. Here's to my nineteenth! Knock glasses while looking each other in the eyes, otherwise it's seven years of bad sex. And make a deer-in-the-headlights face while you're at it._

_Review? Pretty please? I'll love you forever!_


	8. Whole Lotta Love

_**A/N:**__ You need coolin'. Baby I'm not foolin'. I'm gonna send ya back to schoolin'. Way down inside, a-honey, you need it. I'm gonna give you my love. I'm gonna give you my love. Oh! Wanna..._

**. . .**

**Wasted – Chapter 8**

**Whole Lotta Love**

**. . .**

"All yours."

Get out of my way, you scrumptious asshole. I need to evacuate.

I push myself off the wall I was leaning against, sending Sasuke and his abs a pressing look, because, well, it's pressing. He steps out of the door frame to let me through.

"Thank you."

I close the bathroom door behind me with my foot, clutching the bed sheet I took from Sasuke's bed tightly in my fists, keeping it up around my body. You know, Sasuke being a guy who has his own private wing in his parents' mansion and all, I would've at least expected him to have a bathroom in his bedroom, not fifteen feet away at the end of a corridor.

Directly after he pulled out, he sat up in his bed and peeled off his condom, then turned to me while putting on a pair of boxers. He asked me if I wanted him to show me to the bathroom. A beautiful moment ensued.

And by that I mean that I quickly gathered his bed sheet around my torso, jumped out of bed, stumbled and landed face first in his pile of dirty clothes, letting go of the sheet and uncovering my entire body anyway. Upon hearing him chuckle, I scrambled to my feet, pulled the sheet back around myself and headed to the door without a word, perfectly aware that no witty reply would save my pride at that point.

He then proceeded to show me the way and make me wait (he made me _wait_!) while he took his own piss. I then leant against the wall, and crossed my legs, feeling my bladder protest vehemently and my still sensitive sex throb faintly. I was about to pee on the floor when the door clicked open and Sasuke let me in.

I hike the sheet up to my waist and sit down on the toilet seat with great relief. I can't contain the satisfied sigh that escapes my lungs as I finally empty my bladder.

I swing my legs up straight and point my feet, stretching, then I flex them and look at the nail polish on my toes. Of all the things I could've done in preparation for tonight but didn't on account of the excitement, I forgot two of the most important. Shave my pubes and repaint my nails.

I don't mean to sound shallow, but it is a _disaster_ down there. The purple (that I named "The Colour Formerly Known As Prince) polish I put on last week is all chipped and honestly, quite amateur-looking. Had I worn heels today, I would've fixed it, but my slip-on sneakers were just too comfortable to abandon. Besides, this is still casual sex, there's no need to dress up and make it special.

I probably won't even stay for the night. Unless Sasuke wants to go for another round, which is very likely and would be highly appreciated. If every time with him is like what it just was, he can have me as many times as he wants.

I mean, the man knows how to please women.

He made me come, for fuck's sake! I'm fairly confident that's never happened to me before.

I just wonder if I'll feel different in the morning. I don't feel any different now, besides the mind-blowing memory of it, but physically, nothing's changed. I wasn't expecting anything to change, but I did wonder, as a younger, more virginal girl learning about coitus, if having an orgasm would operate some sort of transformation in me. I guess I almost hoped for it. For _something_.

But yeah.

Staying the night.

Another incentive would be the prospect of another breakfast of champions like the one we had back in December, awkwardness aside. Because, honestly, living on my own doesn't make for huge meals or even a full fridge. Contrary to popular belief amongst newcomers (myself included, last year), having roommates doesn't mean sharing what you own. At all. You buy your own stuff, use your own stuff and eat your own stuff. Unless someone graciously offers it, in which case you have to pay them back in some way.

But here. Here, where parents roam. Here, where people stay for weekends, holidays and other school breaks. Here, where the kitchen is bigger than my entire floor and the fridge as big as my room. Here, where either a professional chef or a very hands-on mom resides. Here, there is food. Good food. And plenty of it. So, breakfast is definitely something to look forward to when you've been skipping it all week, not because you want to lose weight but because you don't have the money for it or the time to eat it.

I'm wary, though. If I ask to stay for the night and for breakfast, am I being too clingy? Is it proper fuck-friend behaviour? Or was it a given from the start that I'd be sleeping here? Why didn't we talk about this before? You know, instead of avoiding each other all week, we could've planned a few things (although planning sex is probably the least exciting thing in the world).

Side note: this bathroom has the softest toilet paper I've ever had the honour to use. Moving on.

On the plus side, by staying here, I don't have to risk waking my roommates up, I don't have to go back in the cold, I won't feel like a whore _and_ I get a mega breakfast as a bonus. Then again, I get the awkward morning after and the oppressing silence during breakfast – no matter how mega it is.

Oh, fuck it, I'm staying. There are more pluses than minuses and I know how hungry I get after sober sex. Add that to the fact that I haven't been grocery shopping in a while and I barely have any food left, I'm definitely staying. Plus, I need sleep. Badly.

I stand up from the toilet, flush it, readjust the sheet around my torso and walk to the sink. I think it's the first time that the me staring back through the mirror doesn't strike me as a filthy hooker in dire need of makeup remover and a hair brush. I still inspect my skin for blackheads while I wash my hands, out of habit, comb my fingers through my hair for good measure and, reassured of my presentable appearance, turn to the door, eager to get back to Sasuke and his body.

I turn the doorknob and pull, but the door barely budges. However, I can see it's not because I've inadvertently locked myself in since it actually opened a little before being yanked back shut from the other side. I pull again, and just like the first time, someone in the hall keeps it from opening.

"Hey!" I protest as my third attempt proves as unsuccessful as the other two.

I know it's Sasuke on the other side. He's probably just playing with me, in another attempt to work on the "friend" part of our "relationship". I can see how this playful behaviour could be fun to two five-year-olds on a Saturday morning between cartoons, but I'm eighteen years old and I just had mind-blowing sex. All I want is to either get back to the sex or get a few hours of sleep before I have to confront the lack of romantic feelings Sasuke and I have for each other. I'm not in the mood to be trapped in the bathroom indefinitely while he has his kiddy fun on the other side.

And then I hear it.

I hear _her_.

Whoever she is.

What I hear is a woman, talking in a hushed tone to who I guess is Sasuke. Ah, yep, there's his voice, hushed as well. I can't understand a word they're saying, so I stick my ear to the door, giving up on opening it.

"Go back to bed," Sasuke whispers flatly, obviously as tired as I am.

"Sasuke!" The woman hisses back. "I'm not leaving until you tell me who's in the bathroom."

I hear Sasuke sigh, as if he's giving up on an argument they had while I was peeing. I hear a click and the door swings open. I step aside as to not introduce it to my face and peer outside.

Sasuke's the first one I see, towering above me in his boxer-briefs and his abs. I step off the cold tile floor and onto the hallway's carpet and once Sasuke's out of my line of vision, I finally see the woman he was talking to.

Dressed in flowery pajama pants and flimsy tank top that's bound to be way too cold for the weather, her arms crossed over her chest, she stands perfectly still, barely shorter than me, a disapproving look on her face. Her face that, by the way, really resembles Sasuke, in a feminine, slightly wrinkled way. Her black hair is dishevelled and her eyes are a bit puffy, probably because she just woke up and the light coming from the bathroom is hurting her retinas.

Her eyes are on me, but there's no hatred, just disapproval and mild annoyance, and somehow it doesn't seem directed towards me. She turns her glance back to Sasuke just as I do, slightly confused, and we both see that he appears to be hunched over, staring at the floor, obviously trying to avoid both eye contact and further conversation.

"What were you planning to do?" The woman asks. "Keep her in the bathroom until Fugaku and I leave for work? Might I remind you that our bathroom is in renovation and we all have to use this one? Or has that slipped your mind at the same time as your manners? Honestly, the poor girl, she must be freezing."

I'm not, but I sure as hell won't tell her that.

"Did you really think we couldn't hear you two?" She's hissing again. "With all the noise you were making, we almost thought you were murdering her."

Oops.

"Just be glad Fugaku's actually proud of you for your... finale." Oh, she seems uncomfortable. Good, I am too. "But next time, at least wait until we're out of town. Or use the white guest room, it's far enough."

I think it's a bit funny how Sasuke seems to be shrinking into himself a little more with each word that comes out of the woman's mouth. That and his frown seems to be deepening. If we actually make it back to his room – or the white guest room, as she suggested – I'm _so _gonna get it. And by that, I mean rough sex. Yes.

"Now," she sighs. She seems to have calmed down. "Aren't you going to introduce us?"

Oh, see, lady, I don't think that's necessary. I mean, it's not exactly the right time, plus I'm not actually Sasuke's girlfriend, so introductions really would be inappropriate. He seems to be thinking the same thing but speaks up nonetheless.

"Mom, Sakura," he waves his hand between us. "Sakura, mom."

"Hello, Sakura. I'm Mikoto." She extends her hand to me, a soft smile now stretching her lips.

"Hi," I say meekly, shaking her hand ever-so-slightly. "Nice to meet you." It sounds ridiculous in this situation.

"I'll let you two go back to bed." She turns to her son. "_To sleep_."

I let out a nervous giggle.

"And I expect to see her at breakfast tomorrow morning," she says, still to Sasuke. "Is that clear?" He nods once, still staring at the floor, and doesn't move until she's walked past us into the bathroom. He then grips my wrist and pulls me quickly to his room. I follow as quickly as I can, nearly tripping over the sheet many times on the way, clutching it so it doesn't fall off and it's with relief that I let myself crash onto his bed.

It's only now that I realise how hard my heart is pounding in my chest and how hot my cheeks are from blushing so much. Sasuke stands in front of me, facepalming.

"Sorry about that," he says after a while. "I thought they came back tomorrow. They probably got in while I was picking you up. Had I known-"

"It's fine," I giggle. "Don't exceed your word quota in one go, it's okay. I didn't mind."

And it's true. I mean, yeah, I'm a bit embarrassed, but it could've been seriously worse. She could've thrown me out. They could've exploded into a full-out family feud about bringing girls over. But they didn't. Actually, his mom reminds me a lot of mine. Except mine has never caught me hiding a boy in the house. My ex only came over for dinner, and Naruto's impossible to hide, no matter how hard you try.

"I thought your parents slept in another part of the house," I say, the thought popping up in my mind.

"Reparations. This place is old. The plumbing in their wing is falling apart."

I nod in understanding and then there's a silence. An awkward one. I know I should probably say something, just to diffuse the tension, but I can't think of anything. I tighten the sheet around me and stare at the floor, in the hopes that it will give me some inspiration.

"Look..." Sasuke starts, hesitating. I raise my head to look at him. "You don't have to stay for breakfast if you don't want to. I can handle my mom-"

"No, no, it's fine," I reply, maybe a bit too quickly. Damn. "I mean, breakfast here is awesome. I wouldn't even be having one if I went home."

"Well, that's not good."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious."

Sasuke snorts, then drops his hands to his sides and stares at me.

"Sooo..." I say. "What now?" He smirks.

"Your call."

I barely hesitate.

"Where's that guest room?"

His smirk widens.

. . . . . . . . .

I didn't come.

The second time.

Then the third time proved to be too much for me – to be fair, none of the other guys I've ever had sex with actually stayed awake long enough to get into a second round, let alone a third one, and I would've been way too drunk to remember anyway, so I never really experienced the male young adult stamina phenomenon. Add to that already sensitive flesh, a really inventive position, sobriety and the slight thrill of getting caught, and Sasuke had me crying out in a matter of minutes, shaking and grasping at anything graspable until the wind was knocked out of my lungs again and I throbbed all around him.

He came shortly after while I was completely limp beneath him, faint moans still escaping my lips. He gave a few last erratic jerks, his fingers digging into my skin and eventually collapsed on top of me. A few minutes of catching our breath and another quick trip to the bathroom later, we're back in his room and in our underwear, completely spent and gratefully crashing onto his bed.

Okay, what's the procedure, now? Do we cuddle? Do we stay on our respective sides of the bed? Do we talk? Do we go immediately to sleep?

Is it wrong that I'm starting to wish I was drunk? Not to forget about tonight – no way, I will _never_ forget about tonight – but it _would_ give me a good excuse to get right to snoring. I mean, the last (and only) time I was here, I didn't wake up in his arms. Admittedly, he was in the bed with me, and he was awake before me, but if he'd wanted to cuddle, he would've done it. Yes, I know this situation's different, but if my memory serves me right, he wanted to date me back then. Well, sort of.

Come to think of it, he never really explicitly stated that he wanted me to be his girlfriend. Maybe it was me who... misinterpreted, I guess. Yeah. I might have assumed. Presumed. Whatever. Maybe I only heard what I wanted to hear and it turned out to be exactly what I didn't want to hear (WHICH MAKES TOTAL SENSE) and I overreacted.

I'm such a bitch.

And apparently, he's down with cuddling. His arm snakes around my waist and he pulls me to himself. I'm not too sure how I feel about that. I mean, yes, it's really comfortable and good for the soul, but I'm not entirely sure it's appropriate in our situation. Also, it's getting _really_ warm. Too warm. Kinda like the stuffy feeling you get when you've been trying to get warm for a while and suddenly, something somewhere remembers it has a job to do and you're swarmed with overwhelming warmth that's really not that comfortable. The kind of warmth that keeps you from falling asleep or that wakes you up in the middle of the night with a sweaty forehead and a parched throat.

Yeah, anyway.

I stick my legs out of the comforter to get some fresh air and _OHMYGODWHENDIDITGETSOCOLD!_ I swear, it's like all the heaters in the place went out and February suddenly remembered what country this is and how cold it's supposed to be. I pull one leg back under the covers and it seems to be a good compromise for a few minutes until the cold in my leg reaches the rest of my body. Suddenly, Sasuke's warmth becomes very appealing. I make sure both my legs are covered, then I squiggle around until I'm facing him and I snuggle up into his arms. If he's fine with it, I'm fine with it.

I didn't know it felt that nice to be held like that after sex.

**. . .**

There's a weight on my chest. I feel so heavy, I don't think I can move. Is this what a heart attack feels like? I squint my eyes open against the bright sunlight that's pouring down on my face. I can't see much and I still feel heavy. Maybe I'm dead. Or at the hospital. Having a heart attack. It's the alcohol abuse, I'm sure of it.

But, no. I feel Sasuke next to me, his warm skin against my arm. I also hear his slight snoring. Also, I'm pretty sure I'm still oonly in my underwear. Sooo... I'm not dead. Nor at the hospital. And probably not having a heart attack. Good. I need a shirt.

I try to roll over to get up and the weight on my chest tumbles off. I hear a faint "mrrreow" and a soft thud. I open my eyes completely and sit up, startled, to look at what I dislodged from my chest and hurled to the ground.

On the floor, standing next to Sasuke's bed, a black cat stares up at me with big green eyes, apparently as startled from the sudden movement as I am from its presence there. It sits down, still staring at me – judging me, no doubt – and I keep my eyes on it, my brain still too fuzzy to function properly.

Oh.

_Oh!_

I remember that cat! It was here the last December, when I inadvertently stayed over. It's much bigger than it was back then. Oh, and look, it's not entirely black like I thought. It has a tuft of white fur on its chest.

"Hey," I lean down slowly and stick a hand out for it to smell. It approaches its face slowly, sniffs my fingers for a few seconds, looks back up at me and then gives my hand a nudge with its head. "Remember me?" I ask in the softest voice possible, scratching the cat's ears gently.

"His name's Harry," comes Sasuke's voice behind me, mumbling and muffled. I turn to see him lying on his stomach, his head half-buried in his pillow, his eyes still closed.

"Harry?" I giggle. "Why Harry?" He shrugs.

"He looks like Harry Potter."

I turn back to the cat. He's still playing with my hand, in the most adorable cat behaviour ever. Now that you mention it, he does have some similarities with Harry Potter in terms of colour scheme. Black hair and green eyes.

Sasuke's weight shifts next to me.

"It's also a pun," he says, a bit more clearly. He's probably sitting, but I'm too busy enjoying the overdose of cute the cat is giving me to check. "Because he's hairy."

I giggle again. Harry lets go of my hand and hops up on the bed. He leans his face close to mine, sniffs me up and then gives my nose a lick. I squeal.

"Yeah, he does that," Sasuke says, his voice much closer to my ear, now. "Hey, buddy." He extends a hand over me to pet Harry and I lie back down to give him more room. He picks up the cat and brings it over to himself. Harry doesn't seem to mind and proceeds to lick Sasuke's nose as well.

"Was he sleeping on you?" I nod. He chuckles. "He's a real boy. He loves boobs."

"How do you know?" Has he had other girls over? Does Harry like every girl that comes along?

"He sleeps on my mom's when I'm not home."

"What does he do when you are?"

"He sleeps on my butt."

His tone makes me laugh. Harry looks at me lazily while Sasuke scratches his belly. I reach out and give his ears a few scratches of my own and he closes his eyes, content, his body all stretched out on the mattress between Sasuke and me.

"He's adorable."

"Of course, he's mine."

I snicker and then there's a silence. This one's not awkward. In fact, it's rather comfortable. We're just there, petting a cat. I don't know about Sasuke, but I'm enjoying this. It's soothing. Maybe this is what it would be like if we were in a relationship.

No.

No, that's not how it would be. If we were a couple, we'd be kissing, cuddling, maybe making jokes about how we should move in together so I could be Harry's mommy, since Sasuke's his daddy. Then it'd be awkward, because we might not be at that point in our personal development and one of us might not want it as much as the other. Then there'd be questions like "Why?" and "What's the problem with living with me?" and "Are you not serious about this?" and eventually "Are you seeing other people behind my back?" and then all Hell would break loose and this perfect morning would be ruined because no one ever trusts each other and it always gets painful in the end.

"Sakura?"

I snap back to reality.

"What?"

"You spaced out."

"Oh. Sorry."

"No harm. It's just that you looked possessed."

"Yeah, that happens. I was thinking that dating you would ruin this."

"That's not nice."

"No, I mean-... Not _you_ in particular, if this were anyone else, I wouldn't want to be dating them either. It'd make things complicated. I wouldn't be happy." God, I hope he gets what I mean.

"Why?" Damn.

"It's just... When people date, they eventually have certain expectations of their partner that he or she is not able to meet, and they get disappointed, and then simple moments like this get ruined because they talk too much and don't say the right things and I'm doing exactly that, which is not good. Never mind me, I'll shut up now." I try to hide my flustered face in my pillow.

Sasuke stares for a moment and then smirks.

"You hungry?" I nod. "Come on."

He stops petting Harry and rolls out of bed. The cat opens one eye to see why he's not getting any belly scratches anymore and meows at me when I withdraw my hand from his ears to follow Sasuke. I retrieve my shirt from a corner of the room, and as soon as I pop my head out of the collar, a ball of plaid fabric hits my face. I can't help a yelp of surprise, which makes Sasuke snicker.

I unfold the fabric to find that it's a pair of pyjama pants. I throw a glance at the half-naked man standing a few feet from me, smirking, inquiring silently what they're for.

"My mother."

"Oh."

Right. The woman who ordered my presence at the breakfast table this morning. The one who is absolutely convinced Sasuke and I are a proper couple and who knows we're very loud in bed. For Sasuke's sanity and my guilt-free conscience, we need to make it believable. Hence the lending of the not-boyfriend's pyjama pants. I slip them on and tighten the knotted cord around my hips. The fabric floats around my legs and pools at my feet. I'm gonna have to hold these pants up like a skirt if I want to walk in them without tripping.

I dig through my pant pockets for an elastic and tie my hair up when I find one. I must be one hell of a sight, with my crumpled shirt, my too-big pyjama pants and my fail-bun. I follow Sasuke out of his room, the smell of bacon floating up to my nose when we reach the stairs. I suddenly realise how starving I am. All the physical exertion of last seems to have taken a toll on me. I've never been this hungry after sex. Then again, I'm usually hung over and nauseous after sex.

The familiar sight of the dining room comes into view and to my dismay, so does the sight of Sasuke's mother and a man I presume is his father. I sort of hoped they'd be off to work by the time Sasuke and I come down to eat. Nevertheless, I answer Mikoto's greeting with a smile and as graciously as possible, I take a seat in front of her. I don't miss the look of disapproval on her face when Sasuke doesn't pull my chair for me – which really doesn't bother me at all – and plops down lazily on the chair next to mine.

Sasuke's father is hunched over his newspaper, a plate of untouched food sitting next to the pile of paper. Mikoto puts a hand on his shoulder to get his attention.

"Fugaku?" He raises his head and notices me. "Sasuke would like to introduce someone to you." She gives her son a look that could be translated to "That's right, I'm not doing it for you." I glance at Sasuke and I see that his face is in an annoyed frown. I hold in my laughter. He's adorable.

He clears his throat before speaking.

"This is Sakura," he points his thumb at me. "She's my girlfriend."

I know he doesn't mean it. I know we've decided together that we weren't dating, just friends with benefits. I know he only said it because there's no good way to tell your parents you have a fuck-buddy and saying I'm his girlfriend is just making things simpler for the both of us in this situation. I know it doesn't really mean anything. I'm perfectly aware of all of that.

But _damn_, that made me feel good.

Just like the first time my ex introduced me to his parents as his girlfriend. The feeling of belonging to a whole, of being only one half of an entity anymore, of being labelled as "together", that was the best feeling in the world. It feels warm, bright, exhilarating.

But I know it's wrong. I'll to push it away, shove it down somewhere it won't come out of to complicate everything. At least, the blush that I can feel creeping up my cheeks will hide that resignation of mine to not let myself get carried away. I can't think of myself as Sasuke's girlfriend, but they have to. I have to make them. At least for the sake of this breakfast.

Sasuke's father stares me up and down, his gaze very similar to his son's, although a lot more intimidating. He seems to be scrutinizing every inch of my face, maybe trying to decide whether I'm a suitable choice for Sasuke. If he could stop, that'd be really swell. I'm not here for an interview and I'm definitely not here as a potential bride. Still, that's pretty much what he makes it feel like, squinting his eyes as if that'd help him see through any bad intentions I have.

I mean, I get it. They're loaded. Any girl would do close to anything to get her hands on a rich boy like Sasuke to ensure her future as a lazy housewife who gets everything she wants from her husband. His parents are worried about that, obviously, and because a gold digger digs everywhere, even with her in-laws. They want to protect their fortune as much as they want to protect their son's feelings and that's very commendable.

If it didn't mean exposing our fake relationship, I'd tell them in a heartbeat that I'm not sleeping with Sasuke for his money but for mutual satisfaction in our single states. I'm basically relieving tension by having sex with their son. Which is not as commendable and shall remain secret, because being a, ahem, promiscuous young lady is not exactly better than being a gold digging whore. I guess I'll just keep my pride of knowing that the term "gold digger" doesn't apply to me on the inside and act like a very respectable girl on the outside.

After five minutes of studying my reddening face, Fugaku finally lessens his intense stare, seemingly satisfied with what he observed.

"It's nice to meet you," he says in a deep, gruff voice, his face impassive. He extends a hand to me over the table and I shake it as shyly as I shook Mikoto's hand last night. "Welcome to the family."

My cheeks are on fire. My heart skips a beat. Meeting my ex's family was very much like this, and that's exactly what his father had told me, except he had a wide smile on his face. I'd felt so welcome, so peaceful. So good. This is different, of course. But it feels the same. I thank him quietly, my voice only a squeak.

Sasuke hands me a platter of pastries and I gratefully direct my attention back to him. Having him (literally and figuratively) by my side is comforting. I feel safe. Once Mikoto starts her drill of questions – "How did you two meet?", "Are you in the same program?", "What kind of career do you want to pursue with your Film Studies degree?", "Is my son treating you well?", "What are you doing for Valentine 's Day?"and so on – Sasuke gets back into the conversation and tries to restrain his mother. They get into a bit of bickering that's simply adorable and I'm relieved when she announces she and Fugaku have to leave for work.

"Do you work together?" I ask. I imagine Sasuke's mom being his dad's boss and the absolutely romantic way they could've gotten together.

"No, we just carpool. My office is on the way to the station," she answers with a smile.

"The station?"

"My dad's the chief of police," Sasuke buts in, his mouth full of bacon. It makes me giggle but Mikoto sends him a disapproving look.

"Manners, Sasuke," she calls before leaving.

"Yeah!" I exclaim in agreement, giving a light slap on his shoulder. He glares at me, then opens his mouth and sticks his tongue out to show me the extent of chewing he's inflicted to the bacon, possibly in an attempt to disgust me. "I'm friends with Naruto, that doesn't work on me."

"Damn." He closes his mouth, falsely defeated.

We hear the front door open then close and suddenly, we're alone again. I bring my legs up to sit cross-legged on my chair, still looking at Sasuke. I pick up a piece of fruit from my plate and pop it in my mouth. He finishes chewing his bacon and swallows, then turns his head to look at me.

"What?" He asks. I can't help my smile.

"You and your mother."

"Sorry about that."

"Oh, don't be sorry. It was rather endearing," he takes a huge bite out of a pastry. "She loves you very much."

"You think?" He asks, a touch of sarcasm in his voice, but with a smirk nonetheless. "They usually leave for work way earlier than this."

"Really?"

"Yeah. She stayed home longer just for you."

"Wow. I feel honoured."

"She wanted to make sure you were still here."

"That's sweet of her."

He rolls his eyes and I giggle. We eat in comfortable silence for a while. I can't remember the last time I had so much fun just eating breakfast. Actually, I can't remember the last time I sat down with people to eat breakfast at a table that's in the same place where I spent the night.

"I..." Should I tell him? I don't really want him to pity me, or to think I want to be invited over for breakfast again out of pity. "I haven't had breakfast with my parents since elementary school." He frowns at me.

"Why?" He asks.

"My dad works abroad a lot and my mom leaves at six every morning. It's been like that since I got into high school, I think. My parents thought I could finally take care of myself in the morning, make my own breakfast and get myself to the bus and to school. They have no idea how many times I missed it, by accident and on purpose." I fiddle with a piece of toast on my plate.

"You missed the bus on purpose?"

"Yeah. I loved school, but the boys on the bus kept teasing me. The step between home and school was unbearable."

"What did they do?"

"They threw food at me. It was a contest to see who could hit my forehead. They put stuff in my hair, too. They even cut it, once."

"Kids are dumb."

"They're cruel."

"Yeah."

"So, I'd spend up to three days a week at home. Sometimes I'd fake an illness, so my mom wouldn't get mad at me. I even faked slipping down the basement stairs and hitting my head on the wall. I was very thorough, I actually hit my head on that wall to have a bruise and to leave a mark."

"Wow."

"Yeah, I was desperate. Anyway, after high school, I moved out to live on my own near the school. Now I don't even see my mom in the evening like in high school. I see her on holidays when I'm not going out."

"I see."

"That's why this morning was so much fun to me. You'll have to thank your mom for me." I give Sasuke a smile that I try to make playful. He smirks back and warmth spreads through my chest.

"I will. When do you have to be at school?"

"Well, I don't absolutely _have_ to." I know my tone is very suggestive, because that's exactly how I mean it to be, as much as my smile. Sasuke picks up on it.

"Good." He grabs the back of my neck and pulls my head to his, crashing his lips to mine.

I smile into the kiss and transfer myself from my chair to his lap, one leg on each side of his hips. His hands roam up and down my back, pulling off my shirt and tugging at the clasp of my bra. I feel him clear away the plates behind me, then he picks me up and sits me on the table, pushing me down to the hard surface.

The last coherent thought I have is about the dishes we send crashing down to the floor with our shaking of the table and the fact that Sasuke had planned on this because he'd put condoms in the pocket of his pyjama pants.

**. . .**

_**A/N:**__ Xena, I'm so sorry! I know I promised I'd post this before the end of last month! This is the only time I've had to write, because I'm down with bronchitis. I hope you enjoyed._

_Yay, fun times with breakfast and tables! Do you guys think they did kinky things with the food? Or did they get interrupted by the kitchen personnel in charge of picking up the dishes? I'll leave that to you guys' imagination._

_Thanks for reading and please review!_


	9. Wow

_**A/N: **__Why am I skipping over Valentine's Day? Because to me, it would be much more proper to call it Singles Awareness Day._

**. . .**

**Wasted – Chapter 9**

**Wow**

**. . .**

I move up and down. I feel silky sheets under my shins. I feel jolts of pleasure up my spine, coursing through my body. I feel a chest against mine. I feel warm, sweaty skin under my palms. I feel hands on my back, down to my waist, my hips and my butt, _squeezing_. I feel a mouth on my shoulder, quick, hot breaths fanning over my skin, a nose brushing my neck, a temple against my cheek. I feel soft, slightly damp hair between my fingers. I pull. I feel lips on mine, fleetingly.

I move up, down and a little bit forwards and backwards. I hear grunts, weaker ones at times, then stronger ones. I hear whimpers, faint moans. I hear a metal bed frame creaking, a headboard bump slightly against a wall. I hear skin slipping against skin. I hear my heart pounding in my ears.

I move up, down, forward, backward and I rotate my hips a little. I see his eyes, clouded. I see his mouth, sometimes slightly open, sometimes closed, sometime with teeth gritted from the effort. I see his hair sticking to his temples, to his cheeks reddened by the overwhelming warmth. I see my skin, barely standing out from his. I see our bodies, melding into one, moving almost in sync.

I take his face in my hands and smash my mouth to his, trying with all my might to keep moving. My body is torn between exhaustion and desperation for release. He helps me, gripping my hips and moving them against his for me. He kisses his way from my mouth to my breasts one last time before leaning backwards down to the mattress. I stay sitting, my hips still in his hands.

I move as fast as I can. I feel his chest under my palms, his muscles contracted. I feel my fingers grip his shoulders, my nails dig in his skin. I feel him moving inside me and it's mind-blowing. I feel his thighs rise to boost me forward and I feel my insides tighten. I feel the cool metal of the headboard in my hands and my muscles clench as I hold on for dear life. I feel his hands on my thighs, my hips and my waist, pushing and pulling, sometimes holding me in place, then snaking up my back, pulling me down. I feel my breasts brush against his chest and his hand slide up to grip one. I feel his breath against my face. I feel my limbs start to tremble and the pressure in my lower abdomen become nearly too much to handle.

I move erratically and sit back up. I hear my moans turn to screams and his grunts turn to growls. I hear the bed feet rattling against the floor and the headboard banging against the wall loudly. I hear flesh slapping against flesh.

My body clenches. I see stars.

**. . .**

"My mother wants to invite you for dinner."

I turn to Sasuke while pulling my pants up over my hips, my eyes wide, trying to convey with my face the bewilderment taking over my brain. He's sitting on the side of his bed, putting on his socks calmly. His tone had been as casual as if he'd told me what colour of boxers he's planning on wearing to that dinner instead of announcing the most awkward evening in my close future. Does he not get what dinner with his parents means for me? I was fine pretending to be his girlfriend during breakfast two weeks ago, but that was as far as I'd take it.

"Say what!"

"You." He points at me. "Me." He points at himself. "My folks." He points at the bedroom door. "Dinner." His hand drops to his foot where he resumes pulling on his sock.

"But... I can't! _We _can't!" Whoa, I sound so panicked. "You _know_ we can't!" Sasuke sighs. God, even his sighs are sexy.

"It's just dinner." He stands up and walks to me. "It's pretty much a repeat of two weeks ago."

I pull on my shirt and cross my arms over my chest. This has become routine for us. It's weird how it only took us two weeks to fall into it. Every night, even when I have soccer practice, he gives me a ride from school – or my apartment if I haven't had time to pack a change of clothes or the next day's school supplies – and I end up at his place – because he has more space and thicker walls – and I stay the night. We actually do our homework before anything else. Unless we can't keep our hands off each other, but we're generally good at self-restraint. The way I see it, we're rewarding ourselves for our work. It's a good compromise and it gets me to actually do all my work on time. He even took up the job of reminding me to take my birth control.

Occasionally, there's a party, which me being me, I never miss and never spend sober. And Sasuke's always there to hold my hair up, wash my face, get my coat on my back and make sure I leave with my purse. I thought for a moment that it might turn him off, but he claims it's really entertaining, especially when the clothes start coming off and the tables become very appealing dance floors.

A few times, now, he's texted me out of class to have a quickie in the empty section of the school because he was bored out of his mind by his teachers. Yesterday, I made him go down on me in his car – his own car, that he started using again to avoid awkwardness with his chauffeur (ugh) – in the middle of the parking lot, in broad daylight, because I was having a bad day. The rest of the time, we barely see each other. We greet each other in hallways when our paths cross, but nothing more. Personally, I like it better that way. No one would know we were anything to each other but mere acquaintances and no one needs to know.

That does make me wonder how many of those students have a secret like ours. How many girls walk around mentally spotting every booty call she's answered in the last week? How many boys pretend not to recognise the girl they know they'll be screwing senseless in a matter of hours? How many secret couples have routines and agreements like Sasuke and I do? How many of them long for the day to be over so they can relieve their stress and forget everything that was bad about the ten previous hours?

"Fine," I let out with a sigh while fishing a clean shirt from my bag. "But it can't happen too often. I don't like lying to them."

"It doesn't have to be a lie," he mutters under his breath.

"What?" I ask, pretending I didn't hear. I heard him perfectly, but I'm hoping for a misunderstanding of some sort that he might rectify upon repeating it, like "It doesn't taste like pecan pie" or "It doesn't hashbrown beer cacti". Or something. I'm hungry.

"Nothing." He suddenly seems to be absorbed by the contents of his school bag.

I'll let it go this time, but I'll remember it. Just so I can smack it back in his face when he pulls the "I want to work on the 'friend' part of our deal" crap he's bound to give me again sooner or later. I'm starting to think this boy is in for far more than I am and he's just omitting things to cover it up. We've both agreed on a secret non-romantic relationship, and there he goes, letting me stay over for breakfast with his parents and inviting me to dinner with them as well. If that's how he keeps a secret, I don't want to see him being a telltale.

And, oh my God, we'll have to figure something to tell his parents when they ask about Valentine's Day. We obviously didn't do anything, which is not proper boyfriend-girlfriend behaviour, but as we're not boyfriend and girlfriend, I had no excuse – and no desire – to do something special on that night. Actually, we didn't even see each other. I declared it would go against our agreement and asked him to give me that day off. Sleeping in your own bed is really one of those luxuries you don't realise you have until you lose them. Fine, I might be getting a better deal than people who don't have a bed at all, I'm not denying that. But I did miss my bed over the last couple of weeks.

I actually spent all day in bed, binging out on cookie dough ice cream and homemade vodka-cranberries like the depressing single I am, watching Gilmore Girls episodes – the fifth, sixth and seventh seasons back to back, the most enjoyable in my opinion – drooling over Matt Czuchry and crying like an old, desolate spinster at the last episode when Logan and Rory break up. Then I spent about an hour just daydreaming about the fictive day they meet up again and realise how much they've missed each other and decide to get married because they are both still young, beautiful and single, and then they live happily ever after because that's how it should be.

At some point in all that, I went through the pictures on my computer to find some of my ex, then printed them and proceeded on burning them to ashes while cackling with glee.

Oh, is that my stomach? Man, I must be hungrier than I thought. Hopefully, Sasuke didn't hear; I wouldn't want to be cornered into another breakfast – despite the fact that I could be having pancakes and pastries and actual fresh fruit and bacon and hasbrowns and if I push it, pecan pie. Because, no, I haven't had breakfast at his place since _that_ breakfast and I don't really intend to, even if he uses the pecan pie argument.

"Are you thinking about breakfast again?" Oh, I forgot he was there, that psychic Greek-god-that's-not-actually-from-Greece.

"No, I'm not." Damn, I said that too fast. He chuckles and stands up from his bed, slinging his schoolbag over shoulder.

"Come on. McGriddles. My treat."

I could kiss him.

Well, I can, but that's not the point.

The point is my trio-number-eight-with-an-extra-hashbrown that I so rarely get because of my usual lack of quick transportation to local fast food joints in the morning but that I'll be getting today because I am screwing a god. A merciful, mindful, beautiful god that doesn't mind my addiction to junk food and huge, unhealthy meals.

Today is a good day.

**. . .**

"I have bad news for you, ladies."

This is the first time I've met the principal. It's definitely weird. I mean, in elementary and high school, everyone knows who the principal is. He speaks at school assemblies, visits classrooms every once in a while to discuss important matters that affect both the students and the teachers and he appears in the school newspaper. His picture is on every graduate board and his name is at the bottom of every letter you have to hand to your parents.

In college, however, he's not that present. You couldn't pick him out of a crowd if your life depended on it. Hell, every once in a while, the idea crosses your mind that there might actually not be a principal. There are no school assemblies conducted by the administrative board, not even for a start-of-term welcome speech, the school newspaper is staffed by students – well, I presume, since ours is pretty much inexistent – and there's a ridiculous amount of people you can ask for help from before you get to him.

Well, at least now, I have a face to pin on the title. All I need now is a name. He looks old and wise – the wrinkles give it away – and is much shorter than I thought he'd be. If he weren't about to deliver us some bad news, as he claimed, I'm sure his stern look would be replaced by serene cheerfulness – again, the wrinkles.

All eighteen girls that we are look up at him from our stretching circle on the gym floor, each of us with a metaphorical question mark on our faces.

"Perhaps some of you have noticed that your coach has not come in contact with you over the past week," he starts, then pauses. I'm not sure why, but the words seem difficult for him to say out loud. "Ms Yuhi and her husband, the male soccer team's coach, have been in an accident."

...

Holy shit.

W-... What!

The sudden silence is deafening. I feel like I've been thrown into a dark pit of ice cold water. I can hear girls gasping around me, but I think I've stopped breathing. The atmosphere is so heavy, it feels like the gym walls have crashed down on us. The principal's voice is muffled to my ears when he speaks again.

"They both survived, but they are in critical condition. Ms Yuhi's pregnancy is at risk considering its early stage and she's been ordered to stay on complete bed rest until the birth. Mr Sarutobi is-..." The principal's voice wavers for a second and he pauses again. He closes his eyes and brushes over his face with his hand. He gives a deep sigh and keeps going. "Mr Sarutobi is still unconscious and the doctors cannot tell how much damage has been inflicted."

I can't move. No one else moves either. It's as if time stopped.

Kurenai didn't tell us she was pregnant. Hell, we didn't even know she and Asuma were married. We knew there was something between them, but it was mostly gossip and speculation amongst the female team. This can't be happening. It _has_ to be some sort of sick joke, a really twisted plot to see how determined to win the soccer teams are. A test. A deranged test inappropriate for any school environment.

The principal's expression has now gone from grim to painful resignation and I'm scared of what he'll say next. He stays silent, as if he were debating whether to continue or not.

"What does that mean for us?" A girl calls behind me. Common sense would dictate me to call her an insensitive egoist, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't wonder about that myself. The principal suddenly looks desperate.

"Unfortunately, due to recent budget cuts, the school cannot afford to pay both of their medical leaves and hire new coaches," he says slowly, choosing his words. "The other coaches are swamped and would also cost too much to the school if they did overtime."

He looks at each of us, his eyes infinitely sad and apologetic.

"I'm terribly sorry, ladies, but the soccer teams will have to go on hiatus. The season will be cancelled for both the male and female teams."

No sound comes from any of us, but on the inside, I'm screaming. I can almost hear the other girls' inward screams as well. The gym is dead silent and no one is moving. My hands are shaking uncontrollably, but I can't say if it's out of shock or out of rage. Blood rushes to my cheeks and my nose starts tingling. I feel tears pooling up in my eyes and a lump form in my throat. I want to get up and run, I want to smash something to pieces, I want to yell at whoever made this happen and then beat them to a writhing, bloody pulp.

But I can't.

So I just let my tears flow out. No sobbing, no wailing, just tears. I can't even move my hands to wipe my nose.

I barely notice that the principal has left the gym. I don't even know how much time passes before I hear a girl say shyly "We should probably go". Most of the girls, including me, just mechanically get to their feet and walk out of the gym without a word. I get into one of the showers, peel off my clothes and turn the water on. I make it as warm as is humanly bearable and let it pour over my head and down my body. I turn my head down to avoid getting water in my eyes and I settle my gaze on the dripping ends of my hair that hangs down to my belly button.

It's not possible. It's just not possible. It can't have happened. Those things don't happen. Not to us. Not to them. They didn't deserve it. For fuck's sake, she's _pregnant_. Who deserves such a thing when they're expecting a baby? A part of me – the insensitive part – deplores the fact that today started so well, and now it's a fucking disaster, but another part – I like that one better – is already thinking of things I could do to make it easier for Kurenai.

I could offer my help for her groceries, or to clean her place, or I could help with the baby's room. I could visit Asuma for her, be her eyes and ears, tell her if anything has changed. Oh, but then again, no. I wouldn't want to have to tell her that he's not getting better, or worse, that he's d-...

Okay, no thinking about that.

What about the budget cuts? Who cuts the sport teams? I mean, yeah, I get that they have to cut somewhere, and no one really deserves to have their funds taken away, but sport teams are made to represent the school. We're the healthy afterschool activity. We prone discipline, health, determination and sportsmanship. Not to sound vain, but we're pretty important to the school's image.

Fine, we don't _always_ prone all those things. Oh, that's it! I bet someone ratted us out to the principal about our partying habits. I bet they managed to get the board angry with us because we have social lives. If that's what it takes to be cut from the budget, why don't the art clubs get cut as well? We go to parties to get drunk, they come to school high out of their minds. This is not a false accusation; I _know _they do, I'm a Film student. I require the help of Theatre kids for actors, Creative Arts kids for backgrounds and accessories and Music kids for, well, music. And let me tell you, it's not the Cinema kids that reek of weed. It's not the sport team members either. We're actually responsible enough to be sober at school, during practice and at every single one of our meets. So why did _we_ get cut?

"It's not fair!"

"Sakura?"

GAH.

What's Sasuke doing in the girls' locker room?

"Yeah?" I call out.

I don't hear anything for a while, then I hear the first shower curtain being pulled open right before the second one is yanked aside and I see Sasuke standing in front of me, fully dressed, looking mildly annoyed. I yelp and quickly turn my back to him, covering my breasts with my arms. Yes, I know, he's seen me naked multiple times before, but there's a chance that some of my teammates are still around and I wouldn't want them to now I'm used to being naked around Sasuke. Secret relationship rule. He either doesn't get it or doesn't deem it important, because he rolls his eyes, pulls the first curtain closed behind him and starts stripping.

"What are you doing?" I ask, alarmed. It's not that I mind him stripping, but if there are other girls around, I'd rather he keep it for later.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" He replies, sarcasm barely tinting his otherwise monotone voice.

"Fine, rephrasing. Why are you taking your clothes off?"

"You're upset. I'm cheering you up." My God, can he put at least a _little_ emotion into it?

"How do you know?"

"Your teammates told me. I've been waiting for an hour." He unbuckles his belt.

"It's been an hour? What do you mean, they told you?"

"You weren't coming out to the car, I came to get you. They saw me. Asked me to comfort them." His pants drop to the ground. He bends down to pick them up and yanks his socks off.

"What the fuck, really? Dude, I'm sorry." I'm not _that_ sorry, really. They're gone and he's here and he's pulling his boxers down. Oh, _hell yeah!_

"Where's your soap?"

"Hm?"

What? Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't hear you, I was too busy ogling your dick that's starting to rise to attention. Ooh, come to mama... Ahem. Right. The soap. Oh, that's right! I didn't bring it with me. I wasn't really paying attention.

"I-in my l-locker." Oh, _really?_ I'm stuttering, now? Jesus Christ, get it together, idiot.

Sasuke raises a brow at me and walks out of the shower, stark naked. I stare after his butt, a sudden urge to grope it taking over my brain. As if thinking on its own, my body follows him out, and I find that it really doesn't matter if I'm naked as well.

"Which one is it?" Sasuke asks calmly, looking around the locker room. I don't answer. I walk to my locker, pull it open and retrieve my soap bottle from my sports bag. I turn around to look at him and OH MY GOD, HOW DID HE GET SO CLOSE SO FAST! I didn't even hear him move! The man is a ninja.

He backs me up into the lockers and towers over me, a slight smirk stretching over his lips, his body pressing up against mine, and then I can feel all of him. And I mean _all_ of him. Especially the all of him that's hard against my lower abdomen.

"So," he says in a low voice.

"So," I repeat, oddly high-pitched.

"You're upset," he states and runs his hands down my sides.

"I _am_ upset," I concede, a shiver running down my spine. I can't help the hard squeeze my hand gives the soap bottle.

"Friends don't let their friends be upset." His hands grab my butt and he pulls one of my legs up to hook it around his hip. I grab onto his shoulder with one hand and fling the soap-holding other around his neck.

"No. No they d-don't." He bends his knees to give himself momentum, then straightens up quickly, pulling my other leg up, and pins me between his body and the lockers.

"And I'm a good friend." Still holding me up, he dips his head to my neck and starts sucking on it. I stretch up so that his mouth can reach my chest.

"Yes! Y-yes you are, _yes!_" Oops, maybe that last one was a bit loud.

He secures his arms around my butt and leans away from the lockers. At this point, I don't really bother to look where we're going anymore, but I get the feeling the still-running shower is about to get a show. Sure enough, I soon feel the warm water pour down over my back and my head. I'm pinned against another wall and then Sasuke's mouth is on mine, hot and hungry. I let the soap bottle drop to the floor and run my fingers through Sasuke's wet hair. His hands become frantic, he presses more forcefully against me and I know what he wants.

"Condom?" I manage to articulate between kisses. He leans away, his previous smirk replaced by a slight frown, and shakes his head. I know this face. This is the face of a kid who was promised something and who's just found out that he's contributed to his not getting it after waiting for a long while. I almost pity him.

"Birth control pill?" He asks in turn, looking a little hopeful. I grin.

"Still taking it."

That's all it takes. He smashes his mouth back to mine and suddenly, he's inside me. And _my God_, it feels amazing. He thrusts his hips at mind-blowing speed, sending electrifying jolts up my spine. He trails his lips from my mouth to my neck and soon, I'm letting it all out. The sighs, the moans, the screams. I hold onto his shoulders for dear life and try – and fail – to keep up with his pace. I give up and lean back against the wall.

My moans and his grunts echo on the walls all around us, and I find myself thinking that if I weren't the one having sex in the locker room showers right now, I'd find these noises very arousing. The sound of our skins slapping against each other is also amplified by the echo and just listening to it makes the sex even more enjoyable.

Sasuke leans forward and slides us down the wall so that he's on his knees. I'm still stuck between him and the wall, straddling his lap, but this new position seems to give him more grip and his thrusts grow quicker and harder. He hooks his left arm under my right leg, pulls it up and _oh my sweet Jesus Christ, do that again. Yes!_

His head is leaning against the wall right next to mine and his grunts fill my ears. They become strained and take a higher pitch while my screams grow louder and louder. He pounds as hard as he can, his fingers digging into my skin. I drag my nails across his back.

I can feel it. Right there.

It's coming.

It's coming!

_I'm_ coming!

Oh my God!

_Oh my God!_

_YES!_

"YEEEEEEESSSS!"

I throb around him, letting wave after wave of pleasure roll over me, then I go completely limp against the wall while he still pounds into me. A few seconds later, he gives a shaky, squeaky grunt and I feel my lower half being flooded with warmth. He gives a few more erratic thrusts into me and plummets against me, panting and resting his forehead on my shoulder.

We stay like that for a while, trying to catch our breath, until he leans away from the wall and pulls me into a searing kiss. I don't even think of protesting or pulling away and I jump right into it. His tongue is warm against mine and his large hands on the bare skin of my back get me right in the mood again. Still buried inside me, leans down to the floor, bringing me with him, and suddenly I'm on top.

I'm not entirely sure if it was me or my body that decided to move, but at some point I realise that I'm thrusting up and down his shaft. His hands brush down to my butt and then he's in control of my speed. I let him do what he wants. I feel too good.

Is it just me or is the water more lukewarm than hot, now?

Holy shit, it's turning cold!

Sasuke yells. I yank myself away from him with a yelp and roll off of him. I hurl myself at the shower knob to turn the water off. It stops pouring on us and I stare at Sasuke, suddenly cold and completely at a loss for words. He's propped up on his elbows, shivering as much as I am and staring back at me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see something move. I direct my eyes in that direction and realise that it's his dick slowly going limp.

I don't think I've ever been in a more absurd situation. Except maybe that night we met, back in December. We both watch the appendage go down and down until it's back to its usual floppy state against his balls. I look up at his face at the same time as he raises his gaze to me. This is the first time I've seen embarrassment on his face and boy, is he _adorable._

I giggle while he sits up, a little sullen, then gets to his feet and starts gathering his clothes. I follow him, trying very hard to keep my giggles at giggle level. We get dressed in complete silence and soon, we're in his car, driving back to his place. The ride would be awkward if I weren't still stifling my laughter. I mean, really, there's nothing for him to feel embarrassed about. He did make me come with that dick of his, it's only because of the cold water that I got to witness him lose an erection. Any male in that situation would've had that problem.

Besides, I very well intend to make up for it when we get to his house. After a real shower, of course. And with proper protection. Once without a condom is fine – well, it was _incredible_, but that's not the point – but it can't happen again. I'm on the pill, so I should be okay, and even if I'm not, there's the morning-after pill that I can get – although Ino says it's a ridiculously uncomfortable pain in the ass – but I can't risk a pregnancy. Not now. Not while I still consider it a risk.

God, I hope I'm okay.

No. Yeah. No. Of course I'm okay.

Besides, I can't even remember what I was upset about.

Aw, crap, I forgot my soap in the locker room.

**. . .**

_**GET DOWN. GET DOWN. AND MOVE IT ALL AROUND. GET D-**_

"Mhello?"

"Sakura?"

"Mhey, Ino."

"You missed this morning's Video Creation, are you sick?"

"Hmmn... No, I'm not."

"What's wrong, then?"

"I'm sleepy."

"Sasuke?"

"Sasuke."

"Lucky bitch. Anyway, Kakashi read our pre-prod paperwork and gave us the green light to start production, so we have a meeting with the art department next Friday."

"Mkay."

"Promise you'll be there."

"Mpromise."

"And promise you'll talk to me before then."

"Promise."

"Good girl. I'll let you sleep, now. See ya, pretty face!"

"Hmmmn."

**-click-**

**. . .**

_**A/N: **__Is it weird that I stopped right in the middle of that lemon to go re-watch Tobuscus's Dead Island Literal Trailer on YouTube and then came back and got right back into it? Hm._

_I need to bring up a few points:_

_1. First of all, I was never on a school's sport team. I did play soccer most of my life, but not in school, and never on a competitive level. Not because I wasn't good enough, I was just more interested in the arts, like cinema, drama and music. I also don't have anything against sport teams and I don't have anything about art clubs. This is only from Sakura's perspective as a member of the soccer team AND as a Film (and so, Art) student._

_2. I don't and will never use the Japanese suffixes ("-chan", "-kun", "-sensei", etc.) in this story, mainly because I'm making it happen in Canada. So, just pretend they're part of a huge Japanese community where everyone has a Japanese name. That's what I do._

_3. I'm open for suggestions as to who Sakura's ex is (he has to be an existing Naruto character), but if I don't get any (or any good ones), he shall remain nameless and will not appear in the story._

_4. This chapter was pretty much the only screen time Sakura's soccer team will get. If I get too many characters involved, it'll become really complicated, especially if I invent names for them (which I'm not spectacular at)._

_5. Finally, I'd like to point out that this story is not made to glamorize Sakura's (and teenagers') bad habits. She's not supposed to be right. This story will follow her progressive realisation that she's becoming an adult and that what she's doing is wrong and might lead to harsh consequences. Even when she claims she's being responsible. I do not condemn drinking and smoking and doing drugs and partying, but I do not recommend it for everyone, and I want people to realise that you do need to be very responsible if you want to do those things and not regret it._

_Oh God, I feel so old. I'm only nineteen and I sound like a fifty-something ex-addict trying to sensitize teenagers and young adults to "Teh Eevuls of Illicit Substances (DUN DUN DUUUNN)"._

_Uh... Review? People don't review much anymore. Break the stigma! Abide all the rules! Fuck the police!_

_Okay, maybe not that last one._


	10. Weed

_**A/N: **__THERE'S HAIRSPRAY ALL OVER MY KEYBOARD._

_Just thought I'd share._

**. . .**

**Wasted – Chapter 10**

**Weed**

**. . .**

"What do we need the art department for again?"

"Costumes, mostly, but we do need a few art pieces for the museum scene and a giant painted background for the Poptart scene."

"Why didn't we ask the Theatre department for costumes?"

"We did, but there were things they didn't have, again for the Poptart scene, amongst others."

I'm not in great shape. My back hurts, my feet hurt, my head hurts and I feel extra heavy because I haven't had my soccer practices to make up for my disastrous eating habits, and because I'm PMSing and thus, bloated – it sucks major ass that I have to feel like this for an entire week before the real torture starts. Also, Sasuke kept waking me up every half-hour last night with a particularly aggressive demeanor.

Not that he was violent or rude, but he was rough. I don't mind a bit of roughness, but he didn't have his usual consideration for my well-being. And he kept at it all night. I wasn't scared, but it did worry me a little. Plus, it wasn't entirely enjoyable. It felt like he was just using me, using my body, to vent some pent up frustration. I swear, even my lips have bruises. I'm so sore, I'd film myself right now to see if I'm right to think that I'm not walking straight.

I'm not that peeved about being used, but he usually is just so considerate that I didn't expect any of last night to happen. I didn't think he'd ever objectify me. But hey, before him, that was the only kind of attention I got from guys, so what's one rough night after three weeks' worth of amazing sex? Even if I didn't come once? Pff, I can function without an orgasm. Tss.

Pff.

"Right. Sakura, that's Kankurou, the art department's head. He said he'd help us."

Hmm?

GAH.

Okay. Okay. He has paint all over his face. Okay.

For a second, there, I thought his face was deformed into a horrible grimace, like an evil clown. I hate clowns. Bleh.

"Hey, nice to meet you." He smiles and offers me his hand to shake, and I oblige, hoping he didn't notice my momentary internal panic. "My bro and his girlfriend are getting stuff from the supply room. I asked another dude to help out, but he's late and he won't answer my texts or my calls."

"Why?" Ino asks.

"He's a dick," Kankurou answers matter-of-factly. "Best of the class, but a dick nonetheless. And really weird."

"Then why did you ask him?" I ask, getting irritated.

"I just said he's the best in the class."

"So? Couldn't you have just asked somebody not as good but more enjoyable to be around?" I'm aware of the bitchiness in my tone, but I'm not mad at Kankurou, just at the dick who didn't show up. He doesn't seem to be affected and merely shrugs.

"Everyone else asked to be paid. Thought you'd prefer it being free."

"And we're very grateful for that, aren't we, Sakura?" Ino sends me a "Don't fuck this up, woman" look, but I'm not having it.

"Give me your phone." I stretch my hand out to Kankurou.

"He won't answer if my number shows up," he deadpans.

"Fine, then give me his number."

He stares at me for a minute, probably wondering if he should do as I ask because I look like a madwoman, but I hold his gaze with the firm intention to release my new wave of irritation on the idiot who decided to skip out on my very important final project. Ino is silent next to me, but I can tell she's just keeping it in until we're somewhere she can properly scold me for being PMSing bitch. Kankurou hesitantly pulls his phone out and gives me the dude's number.

"His name's Sai." He hesitates again while I punch in the numbers. "Just... be careful."

Oh, _I_ need to be careful? That Sai dude is going to regret he ever considered the possibility of maybe having the thought of bailing out on me. I can't art to save my life and he won't art to save my final college movie. This is personal.

"Hello?"

Kankurou's vague description of the guy did _not_ prepare me for the smooth, polite tone he answered my call with.

"Is this Sai?"

"Yes it is. How can I help you?" WHY IS HE SO NICE!

"Well, you could start by getting your ass to the art room." His voice makes me feel bad about scolding him, but the way I see it, someone's got to knock some sense into him and my currently easy irritability and I are the perfect team to do that.

"Although your pretty voice makes for a very appealing image in my mind and I'd love to see what you actually look like, I fail to see any other reason to present myself to the art room. So please, enlighten me."

Stand your ground, Sakura. Don't let his sweet words get to you.

"Listen and listen closely, you blithering imbecile. I have three hours of sleep scraped together to keep me awake right now, I'm hungry as fuck, my head feels like it's been sawed open and you are single-handedly putting my final project and thus my diploma at stake." Ino and Kankurou are sending me panicked looks, while a redheaded boy and brown-haired girl are hesitantly walking out of what I assume is the supply room with gigantic pieces of cardboard and very confused expressions on their faces. "So I absolutely do _not_ need you to question what I say nor to try to subdue me with compliments. I need you to get off your lazy ass right now and bring it to the art room before I have time to wonder why you're still not here, otherwise I swear to God, I will find you and I will hurt you."

There's only silence on the other end of the line for a few seconds, while I pant like I've just run a marathon. Kankurou is still staring at me like I'm the crazy one – well, maybe I am – and Ino is facepalming. The red-haired boy and the brown-haired girl – who I can only guess are Kankurou's brother and his girlfriend – are not moving, as if afraid I might attack them as well.

Then, in the phone, I hear:

"Kinky."

But, see, the thing is, I also hear it behind me.

You know, where the door is.

"Have you had time to wonder where I am?"

I wish I could stop my legs from turning me around, or prevent my optic nerves from sending the sight in front of me to my brain. I wish I could force my eyelids to close or my jaw to come back up to the rest of my head. I wish I could think of a clever retort or at least make my mouth say "Oh, there you are" in a condescending tone. But I can't.

No reason. I just can't.

"Ah, I knew such a beautiful voice had to belong to an equally beautiful girl," he says with a wide smile, still talking into the phone. "I'm actually glad I came."

I still can't get myself to perform any kind of action, so I just stand there, my eyes metaphorically stuck to his, my mouth still hanging open and probably the most hilarious dumbfounded expression on my face. He takes a few steps until he's only a few inches away from me and keeps smiling.

"Well, I'm gonna hang up, now," he says in a slightly hushed voice. He pulls his phone away from his ear and ends the call. As I'm still not moving, he reaches for mine, his fingers closing softly around my hand and directing it away from my face. "You should too." He presses the "End" button, still holding my hand.

I gather up enough brain power to close my mouth and blink, and with a chuckle, he leans down so that his face is at the same level as mine. His eyes – so, _so _black – bore into mine and I'm surprised to find myself looking away in embarrassment. I slap myself mentally and bring my gaze back to his. I better show him who's boss.

Will you stop smiling, damn you!

"Are you alright?" He asks, the hand that was holding mine leaves it to lightly brush against my cheek before resting on my forehead. "You don't have a fever, but you're awfully pale. Almost as much as me!" Is he really laughing at his own joke?

Granted, he _does_ have an impossibly white complexion. And here I thought Sasuke was pale. This boy is whiter than Edward Cullen and Vanilla Ice's love child. I'll have to shove him into a ray of sunlight, to see if he sparkles. Or bursts into spontaneous bad rapping from the 90's. Hell, a toilet is tanner than he is.

Actually, speaking of Sasuke, he actually resembles him a little. Although I still haven't figured out Sasuke's eye colour and Sai is considerably paler than him, there isn't much of a difference. Maybe Sai has softer features. More like a girl. And he's a bit shorter and the lankier side of things. Shorter hair, yes, and he looks like a black and white movie – it doesn't help that he wears absolutely no colours, only black. No specific style, just complete absence of colour.

But it's his voice that sets him apart from Sasuke. His tone is smooth, in a higher pitch, and very calm. He doesn't speak too quickly, nor is he slow, and he doesn't seem capable of being impolite. Then again, what do I know? I've only just met him.

He has a very nice smile, though.

Wait, why am _I_ smiling?

"Ah, good, there's some colour returning to your face." His smile widens and his hand leaves my forehead. My cheeks feel warm. Oh, great, I'm blushing.

He leans away from me, starts to unbutton his coat and walks past me. I finally regain control over my body and turn around, slipping my phone into my pocket, just in time to see him toss his coat unto a desk and take one of the cardboard pieces from Kankurou's brother's hands. Ino looks about as confused as I am, but Kankurou gets right into the swing of things and starts explaining to Sai what we require for our movie.

"That sounds pretty epic," he says, turning to me and sending me another smile. My heart jolts. Why did my heart jolt? He turns back to the piece of cardboard, stares at it for a few seconds, then exclaims "Alright, let's do this" and, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to do in the art room, he pulls his shirt off.

I could comment on how hot it's _not_ in the art room, not even slightly warm, or how inappropriate his sudden nudity is, or how untidy it was to toss it across the room instead of folding it or at least bunching it up in his bag. Really, I could. But I'm too busy staring at how not lanky he actually is.

Oh, sure, nothing can rival Sasuke on the subject of sexy midriff, but this boy has the six-pack to make guidos feel fat and insecure. And... Oh, nope. He doesn't have that thin line of hair that Sasuke has, that descends into his pants and leads to really awesome things. The trail to paradise. The path to happiness. Hmm.

Still, hunched over my future gigantic Poptart, meticulously cutting the shape into the cardboard, his back muscles just as appealing as his front, I can't help want to run my hands all over him. And _his_ hands, oh my God! Big and warm, as I've felt on my forehead, but apparently very steady and no doubt very agile, if he's the best artist in the class. I wonder how it'd feel to have him press them against my skin and roam up and down my body. With hands like that, he can only be good in bed.

...

And I'm a gigantic whore.

Seriously, why the fuck am I thinking about those things? I'm supposed to be mad at him! Besides, I have Sasuke to satisfy me – even if he hasn't been very satisfying lately. No! Come on, focus! He's helping out for your final project. He's not here to hook up with you. If anything, he's probably turbo-gay. That's it, ex-nay on the elp-hay.

"Right, well, we have to go, right? Sakura?" Ino pushes me towards the door. She's probably noticed the way I was ogling Sai's torso and she knows as much as I do how dangerous that is. Sai raises his head from the cardboard Poptart quickly, as if startled by Ino's words and rushes over to us, grabbing his phone on the way.

"Could I have your number?" He asks, ever so polite. I don't know if he meant to direct the question to the both of us, but he's only looking at me. "So that we can contact each other if there's an issue," he adds with another of his (sweet, heartwarming) smiles.

"S-sure," I stammer out. I think that's the first thing I've intentionally told him face to face. I fish my phone out of my pocket and tell him my number, feeling a bit more excited than I probably should be about it. When we're done, his flashes me another smile.

"Bye, pretty eyes." He returns to the Poptart and Ino pulls me out of the art room without even pointing out that he didn't take her number as well. We barely make it to the staircases leading to the intersection before she turns to me, squealing, a huge smile on her face.

"Dude! You just got hit on!" She yells, and her voice echoes all around us, deafening.

"Psh, did not." Did I?

"Uh, did too! That reason to ask for your number was complete bullshit. He could just get Kankurou to call me if there's a problem."

"Well, maybe he wanted to make it simpler, in case he works on it alone."

"Sakura. Just admit he hit on you. I'm not asking you if you like him back." She pauses. "Unless of course you're interested."

"Pff, no. Tss. Pff." I'm not convincing.

"You're not convincing."

Well, sue me! He's pretty. And he seems nice. Not at all the dick Kankurou said he was. But I can't be interested. I won't let myself. I've committed to a boyfriend-less existence and I intend to stick to it.

"Can we drop it?"

"I knew it! You like him!"

"I don't even know him."

"Well, you have the perfect opportunity to get closer."

"Yeah, and I won't take it."

"Aw, come on! You can't content yourself with Sasuke."

"I thought you approved."

"I do, but only if it's temporary. He won't marry you, Sakura. He won't give you children."

"What makes you think that?"

"You guys are fuck-buddies. Fuck-buddies don't have futures together."

"Ino, I'm eighteen. I'll be nineteen in a few weeks. Last I checked, I'm still a bit young to settle down and have kids."

"So? What if Sai's the one and you're skipping out on a happy life with him?" Right. Because that's a good argument. The "you never know" card. The Schrödinger's Cat situation. I'm not risking heartbreak over someone whom I barely know anything about, beside his lack of punctuality.

"I'm not talking about this anymore." Dismissing the conversation is the easiest way to get Ino off my back. Any counterargument I could come up with would be futile, now. She has a way with powerful retorts.

"Sakuraaa..." she says in a tone that clearly means "I warn you, if you put a stop to this conversation, there will be consequences". I don't really care. We're best friends, she couldn't bring herself to actually harm me in any way.

"I said no. Now let me call Sasuke." I look through my contact list for his name. We've reached the bottom of the stairs and are making our way across the intersection to the main entrance hallway.

"Pff. Fine. Suit yourself." We reach the double doors and she pushes one open. "I'll go prepare myself to pick up the pieces after you've hit your wall."

"Ugh, go away." I find Sasuke's number and punch the send button to call him, then bring the phone up to my ear.

"Love you, bitch," Ino says while it rings.

"Don't call me bitch, bitch."

"Say you love me."

"I love you. Now leave."

Almost immediately after, I hear a click and Sasuke's gruff "Hello?" reaches my ears. He sounds irritated and tired, which is not typical Friday behaviour on his part. He usually likes Fridays, because he only has school in the morning. Maybe I woke him up. That might be it.

"Hey, I jus-"

"Sakura?" He cuts me off.

"Yeah?"

"This is not the right time." Why does he sound so upset? And whatever the reason, why is he being rude to _me?_ I certainly didn't do anything.

"I just wanted to know if you were picking me up." Good girl. No need to snap at him.

"No."

"Yes, I figured that much. Do you want me to bus it?"

There's a silence, except for a faint background voice on the other side of the line, but I don't understand a word. Sasuke doesn't answer whoever's talking and I wait for him to speak again.

"No," he finally says.

"No what?" Is he picking me up, then? Has he changed his mind?

"Don't come over tonight." There are so many questions I should be asking him, like "When can I come over?" or "What's wrong?" or "Did I do something?", but my brain decides to scrap all of those and go for the "curious four-year-old" option.

"Why not?"

"I don't want you to." I'm going to pretend that didn't hurt.

"Why not?" Keep your voice steady, Sakura. He's allowed a day off. And you know how he can severely lack tact sometimes.

"It's the last thing I need, right now." That didn't hurt either. Nope. Not at all.

I stay silent. There's a lump in my throat that I'm trying to suppress and I know that if I speak, he'll notice it and it'll annoy the crap out of him to have a girl on the verge of tears on the phone. I can't let myself cry. His rejection is not worth crying over, not with the kind of relationship we have.

Besides, it's not because it's him. Rejection in general is painful. It just took me by surprise. Yeah. That's it. Come on, pull it together!

I swallow forcefully and feel the lump decrease. Once I trust myself enough to speak, I clear my throat and try a different approach.

"Did I..." Come on, Sakura, you can do this. "D-did I do something wrong?"

For a few moments, there's absolutely no sound on either side of the line. I wait anxiously for his answer, just standing in the middle of the hallway, my phone stuck to my ear, my free hand subconsciously clutching the hem of my coat tightly. Then there's the background voice again, which sounds like a woman, and Sasuke sighs.

"Look, I'll call you later," he says, sounding suddenly very tired.

My phone makes a beeping sound to announce that the call is over. I stand there, still holding it to my ear, as if hoping it was a fluke and he's actually still there, about to laugh at me for being so gullible. But there's no more noise coming from my phone. And I'm alone, in the school's main hallway, pressing it to my ear like an idiot. I even let out a small "See ya" before pretending to end the call, as if I could fool anyone with my tiny, shaky voice and my eyes that are getting more teary by the second.

I need to save face. I need to pretend I have somewhere to go, a purpose in life for the next few minutes if I want to avoid an emotional breakdown in the middle of school. I walk back up to the second floor and make the worst possible choice: I hurl myself into a bathroom. Way to keep up the appearances, Sakura! You absolute master of deception, you. At least now, I can think of my next move without letting everyone see me think about it. And I can cry for all I'm worth.

Which is not much.

It takes a while, but I eventually stop sobbing hysterically. I wait a little longer until my eyes aren't puffy anymore and weigh my options. I can go home, but what good will that do? I don't have homework or anything to keep me occupied. I'll only end up feeling lonelier than ever. I can't call Ino. She'll rub it in my face all night. I'm not in the mood for one of her "I told you so" speeches. I know Naruto's working on his own final project tonight, and he doesn't want anyone to know what he's doing before he presents it, when it's absolutely ready. I don't want to intrude into anyone's project, anyway.

Oh, wait.

I can intrude on mine! The people in the art class, they're working on _my_ film. _And_ they don't know about my Sasuke situation. They probably don't care, either. I can keep myself busy and get my mind off of him. It's perfect!

I dash to the art room, a little too eager to forget my problem. When I get there, music is playing loudly, Kankurou's standing on a table, hanging something on a makeshift washing line, his brother's hunched over my Poptart while his girlfriend absentmindedly paints a heart on his forehead and Sai is dancing around and singing along to the song, mixing paint in a can. For some reason, the windows are now open and the room has reached glacial temperatures. Thank God I still have my coat on.

There's also this smell. It's a smell I can't quite recognize; I mustn't have been exposed to it enough, but it still manages to ring a bell in my brain. The only image that comes to mind is chemicals and smoke. The thing is, there's no smoke in the room and nothing I can see that creates smoke. Meh, maybe it's just "Eau de Spray Paint and Overused Glue Gun". It's not particularly bad, but it's not the most pleasant smell either. It's kind of upsetting, in a weird, I'm-trying-to-be-deep sort of way.

I walk in slowly and at first, none of them seems to notice I've arrived. However, when I set my school bag down on a table, the noise makes Sai look up from his can of paint. And I swear, the smile he sends me, I don't remember anyone ever looking happier to see me than he does right now. It's mesmerizing.

"You're back!" He exclaims, drawing the others' attention to me. They all call out greetings, but I ignore them. I walk over to Sai and sit on a stool at the Poptart table. Kankurou jumps down from his table and walks out the door, saying something about pizza, his brother and his girlfriend look like they're stuck in their own bubble and Sai asks me what I think of the giant cardboard toaster pastry so far before resuming his singing in a quieter tone to hear my answer. My Captain Obvious alter-ego resurfaces and tells him it looks like a big cardboard square that's painted Poptart-pink.

It's a stupid answer, I know, but my brain's kind of busy noticing how good Sai smells. I mean, crazy good. Sasuke always has this pleasant smell, but Sai's just engulfs me. Amidst the chemical-slash-smoky cloud that's filled the art room since I left, his odor smacks me right in the face. I literally want to squash my face against his abs – because he's still shirtless – and take huge whiffs of his smell for the rest of my life.

And by the way, not a bad singing voice he's got there. And he looks so confident and happy, right now. He's exactly where he wants to be, shirtless, with paint on his hands, face, torso and pants – I get the reason behind all the black, now; it goes with every colour – singing to loud music. He looks so free. So... wild. Compared to him, Sasuke's a tame panda. And I say panda because he's still good-looking. He's just... a little boring, now. I feel bad thinking this of him, but he was a jerk to me a few minutes ago, so I'm entitled to mentally insult him.

Every once in a while, Sai looks up at me and smiles, then goes back to painting my Poptart. When he's not looking at me, I stare at my nails – today painted an "I'm-A-Hipster" pale-ish yellow (the colour's real name is "Sunny Side Up", but that's too perky for me) – and try to figure out what I could say to start a conversation.

Eventually, Kankurou comes back with six pizza boxes and suddenly, there's no more need for me to find a subject of conversation. All three of them who stayed in the art room with me converge to the table where he sets the pizzas down, rambling about how hungry they are and they each take a box to bring it back to their respective work tables.

Okay. I'm a glutton myself. I can eat a two-litre tub of ice cream and still be hungry for an entire meal. However, that's when I haven't eaten for at least six hours – from noon to six o'clock at night most days, so it's a regular dinner of mine – but it's three in the afternoon. Unless these people's last meal was breakfast, I don't see how they're gonna eat entire pizzas on their own.

Sai hands me a box and I take it with a little hesitation. I'm still hungry as ever, but I wouldn't want to eat like a pig in front of him. But he sends me another one of his smiles and I melt. Really, whatever quirk I have, this guy won't judge me. He's an art student; he's all about quirks. Hell, he probably doesn't even mind my pink hair. Sasuke has never commented on my hair, but the night we met, I caught him quite a few times staring at it in a slightly disapproving manner. And by that, I mean that he was frowning, so I just assumed it was because he disapproved of it. Maybe it was just the alcohol making him doubt what he was seeing was right. I guess that in the end, it didn't matter to him that much, since he shagged me anyway.

But Sai... It's clear he likes it. I mean, he's changing the hue of the Poptart icing to match my hair colour. He keeps picking up strands and comparing them to his new can of paint in which he's mixing the pink. He says it's a much better shade and it'll represent me in the movie. I hadn't even thought of that. Some of my classmates always add a special element in their movies to brand it as their work, like this one kid who always puts at least one orange in there. He even made a movie in which every single shot contained an orange. I mean, that's dedication right there. I just never found something I wanted to represent me. I guess it could be pink. It's not my favourite colour, but it's not so bad. And Ino likes it too. I could talk to her about it.

I pull out homework from my bag and start nibbling on a piece of pizza. All the others have two boxes, so I'm guessing Sai gave me one of his. They couldn't possibly know I'd come back. Besides, I like plain cheese pizza, and this one is meat-lover's. I feel bad. Maybe he's just as hungry as I am and he was expecting two pizzas. I should only eat half of mine and give him the rest back.

"You can eat it all," he says out of the blue. Apparently, my train of thought is showing on my face, because he points to the pizza and repeats that I can eat it.

"You're sure?"

"It's fine. Seriously. There's more food coming, anyway."

What! You mean, after the two pizzas he was going to have before I came back, he was still going to eat more? But... I... I don't... _How!_

"I'm just... soooo hungry," he says, then momentarily spaces out. When he snaps back, he gives me another smile, takes a huge bite of pizza and splotches a dollop of pink paint on the Poptart.

I'm not sure if I should be worried about his mental health. Maybe it's the paint fumes that got to his brain. I mean, there's only so much time can you spend inhaling chemicals before it takes its toll on you. We might all be developing brain tumors right now, for all we know.

Oh well. At least I have pizza. I scarf it down while I try to study for my Art History class. I feel it's most appropriate for the physical situation I'm in. Art room, art history. Yeah. Sasuke usually makes me study this. He takes great pleasure in seeing me struggle to remember whether Ingres painted _La Grande Odalisque _or _Madame Récamier_, and to what period Géricault's _Le Radeau de la Méduse_ belongs. He has an amazing memory and he repeats over and over how he knows the answer and he doesn't even take that course, which is infuriating.

"Which one's your favourite?"

What is it with him and questions out of nowhere?

"Which what?"

"Period." Oh, he's looking at my notes. Well, Sakura, now's the time to sound smart.

"Romanticism. Friedrich, with his _Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog_. Géricault and his _Radeau_, of course. Fuseli and _The Nightmare_. What?" He's looking at me with a very clear "I did not expect an eloquent answer" expression on his face.

"Nothing," he says, smiling. "Romanticism has really dark themes. I just pictured you as more of a Rococo kind of person. With your colour scheme and your accessories and all. Your sunny disposition." I'm sensing a bit of sarcasm in there – which may or may not have something to do with that phone call an hour ago – but I should probably let it go.

"Oh. We haven't seen that period yet." And I'm back to being an idiot.

"I see." He chuckles. "Well, you know how Baroque is all about frills and opulence in patterns and colour?"

"Yeeeaaah..." I do sort of remember that, but we saw that last semester, so I pretty much erased it from my brain.

"Rococo's worse than that." He chuckles again.

"Ah." Wait a second... "Dude, what's that mean about me?" He really laughs, now.

"Don't worry. I like Rococo. It's my favourite."

He puts a hand on my arm. I melt.

"Dudes, I have the McDick's!" I jump. I hadn't even noticed Kankurou had left the room, and I didn't hear him come back either. He throws a huge bag of McDonald's on Sai's table, hands a second one to his brother – whose name I should really learn – and gets back to his own work. Sai finishes his pizza and gets his hands on some fries. From a peek into the bag, I know that there are at least three trios in there. All for one person.

"Gaara." He calls out. Kankurou's brother looks up. Ah, well, there we go. I know his name, now. "You wanna do another one?" Gaara glances at his girlfriend, who gives him a smirk and a nod, and he turns back to Sai and nods as well.

Sai reaches into his pant pocket and pulls out what looks like a cigarette. Except it's thinner. And it looks handmade.

Oh.

_Oh!_

I get it.

The open windows, the aloofness, the absentmindedness, the hunger... the _smell_. I know what that smell is, now. I didn't think I'd ever be in a situation where such a stereotype could actually be brought to life. Out of all the social groups in this school, I genuinely thought these people would strive to detach themselves from their attributed image. They're all about originality and individuality. Surely, they'd be trying to break the presumed status quo that affects their field of interest. But apparently, I was wrong.

These art students are getting stoned.

I should mind. Really, this should bother me. I mean, it's illegal in the first place, but they're smoking up on the school grounds. Actually, scratch that, they're doing it _inside_ the school. And fine, I got drunk in the school, but there's a difference. It was a formal event, school was out for the holidays and it was _alcohol_. Drugs are an entire different matter. No, seriously, I should be leaving, right now, and telling a teacher about it.

Really, I should.

But I... don't really care.

I mean, they look fine. Maybe a little out of the loop, but nothing that could put them or anyone else in danger. Besides, it seems to help them get the work done and they're all in a really good mood. If anything, the only issue is that they're eating way too much for their own good. So, really, I'm fine with it.

But I guess I've been staring at the joint for a while, because Sai hands it to me and asks if I want to share. And here's what bothers me: usually, I would've immediately refused. I binge drink like an alcoholic on a rampage and I have slept around with more guys than a girl who actually has daddy issues, but I never _ever_ agreed to drugs. I know people who pop and I know people who smoke up, and it's fine (if it's not on school grounds), but I don't really like the idea of getting arrested. It's not even a question of health. Alcohol and marijuana are both very dangerous when taken in abusive doses. I really just don't want to end up in jail. It would give my mother too good an excuse to have me move back home and put me on house arrest.

Now, though, I'm hesitating. Because I really shouldn't rule out from my life something I've never tried and because these four seem to be having the time of their lives. I want to have fun too. Besides, if it gets my mind off Sasuke for good, I'm all for it. And if we don't get caught on the school grounds, once I'm back at my place, I can't be arrested for simply being high. So, you know, maybe I should accept Sai's offer. He's been so nice to me today; I'm sure he'll take care of me if things go wrong.

Wait... No! We're at school. I can't do this. It's not right. And how would Ino react? She's been dead set against drugs since the Kakeru incident – she calls it The Double Back-Stabbing, because it's a double-meaning and it's the only way she can somewhat laugh about it – and she'd kill me if I smoked up and did something stupid – well, stupider than smoking up in school.

Then again, who's gonna tell her? Not me, that's for certain. What she doesn't know won't hurt her. I just have to make sure I don't try to contact her. I'll turn off my phone.

So... Am I really going to do this? I think I am. Oh, God. I'm going to do drugs for the first time in my life. What if it goes wrong? No. Don't think about that. I've heard worrying about having a bad trip is the best way to have one. So, it'll be fine. Don't worry.

"Sure," I hear myself say. "But you're gonna have to show me how to do it." Sai looks surprised. What, do I look like I've taken drugs before?

"You've never-"

"Nope," I cut him off. No need to tergiversate. It only gives me more time to realise what I'm about to do.

"All right, then," he says, letting me take the joint. He grips my shoulders and leads me to one of the open windows. "Take a small puff. I don't want you to overdo it if it's your first time." I place it between my lips. He pulls a lighter from his pocket and raises it to the end of the joint. "Keep it in and try to make it go down in your lungs. Kind of like taking a deep breath. If you did it right, you'll know."

He lights it. I suck in.

I try to do it quickly, to take as small a puff as I can. If he says I should only take a small one, that's what I'll do. He's right. No need to overdo it. Now, to send it to my lungs. Like taking a deep breath, okay.

Oh my God, it burns! It's like all the moisture in my larynx has been dried off by the smoke.

"Now, blow it out the window," Sai says, taking the joint from me. I do as he says and smoke shoots out of my mouth. I always wondered what it'd be like to breathe out smoke. When we were kids, Ino and I would pretend we were posh smokers when we played outside in the winter. It was even better if we had lollipop sticks, because then we'd use them as the actual cigarettes. I knew I didn't want to smoke for real, because of all the horrible pictures we were subjected to in our Ethics class (yep, even in elementary, we had those), so I never thought I'd ever get to experience real smoke coming out of my mouth.

Aaand now I'm coughing my lungs out. Because hell, it really burns. Tears well up in my eyes. A glass of water is presented to me and I don't even bother to look who got it for me, I just gulf it down. The coughing stops and I wipe my eyes. Sai's leaning against the wall, holding the joint like a cigarette, and Gaara's standing next to me, another glass of water in his hand.

"Thanks," I pant out. He smirks and takes the joint from Sai.

"The more you cough, the more effect it has on you," Sai says in a teaching tone. He waits until Gaara's had his turn, then takes the joint back and puts it to his lips. "It should take a little while to get into your system. Give it five minutes. If you don't feel anything, you can decide if you want to try again."

He's so patient. He's not even laughing at me. I usually laugh at newbies on their first drinking extravaganza who can't hold more than two cocktails. Maybe I should try to teach them, like Sai's teaching me.

"The point is not to wait for it, though," Sai continues. "Too much anticipation can have a placebo effect. Never good."

"What do you suggest I do, then?" I ask, my voice a little raspy.

"I don't know," he shrugs. "Homework. Take off your coat, though."

"Why? It's freezing."

"Weed makes your heart rate increase. If it works, you won't be freezing anymore."

I do as he says, because he knows more about this than I do and because I'm wearing a snowcoat while he's walking around bare-chested. I sit back in front of my homework and get back to my paintings. Sai and Gaara are still at the window, making small talk, occasionally taking a swig from the joint. I don't see time fly at all, too engrossed in my studying. However, when Sai asks if it worked, it takes me few seconds to understand that he's talking to me.

I feel lighter. I try looking around, and things seem to register in my brain half a second too late. I look at my hands and it's like I'm someone else looking at them. I recognise them, with the "I'm-a-Hipster" yellow nail polish – oh, I'm giggling – but they don't seem to be attached to my body anymore.

That's a funny word, "anymore". So many people confuse the spelling. Sometimes, it has to be separated into two words. And it could be someone's name, too. Annie Moore. That's a good name. Annie Moore would be a dentistry student. Or a kindergarten teacher. Yeah, that's what she is. And she has a big, fluffy orange cat. Named... Lorenzo. She's in love with this dude called Al Ready. He's Scottish. Her best friend's called Annie Way. She may or may not be related to the Way brothers in My Chemical Romance. Man, Gerard is one sexy beast with that red hair. He has a daughter, now. Her name's Bandit. I want to name my kid Bandit.

Bandit.

Baaaandiiiiiit.

It such a cool name! It's like... the coolest name _ever_. Maybe he gave her that name just so I'd think of it for my own daughter. He knew I'd want a really awesome name and he delivered. He's so thoughtful! Gerard Way is such a nice guy. He did that just for me. Not like Sasuke. Sasuke never does anything for me.

Ooh, another Annie! And An Other! I'm being so creative, oh my God. Why do I keep calling God out? I'm not even religious. Unless you count opening presents on Christmas and stuffing myself with chocolate on Easter being religious. In which case, I am completely religious. I should invent my own religion that still has Christmas and Easter. Hm, maybe not Easter. Christmas is plenty. Oh, wait, no, Easter gives days off school too. Fine, Easter can stay. I should tell him. He'll feel left out if I don't. I don't want him to feel bad! He's gonna cry! I don't want him to cry!

"Did it work, Sakura?"

"I have to find Easter and tell him!"

"Yep, it worked." Oh, look, Sai's here. I like Sai. He's nice. Nice is a city in France. I'd like to go to France. And England. It'd be pretty epic. "Come here, Sakura."

Kommirsakura? What? And I'm the one who's high? _He's_ speaking gibberish! Giiiibbeeeeriiiiiisssshhhhh. Giiiiibebebeberrrrrrrrish. That's an odd word too. But you can't make a name out of it. Like Annie the kindergarten dentist. And her friend who also named Annie. Are there best friends in this world who have the same name? That'd be awkward. Ooh! What if there was a couple who had the same name? Like... Oh! Oh! What were they called? The singer and the llama? Taylor and Taylor! Or Paris and Paris! Wow, that's gotta be awkward during sex. Especially with the llama. Llamas spit a lot.

"Sakura, are you okay?"

"Llamas spit." And I laugh. My laugh is _weird _today.

"Do they?"

"Yeah... But you're not a llama."

"No, I'm not."

"Good... I like you. You're not a llama."

I'm not entirely sure if I'm still awake. I mean, what I'm seeing, right now, it has the same visual quality as a dream. Maybe I'm sleeping. Maybe that's what weed does to me. I already knew it mellows you out, but I didn't think it would make me fall asleep.

"Am I sleeping?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"... No." He snorts and starts laughing. I like his laugh. It's pretty. "Do you want some more?"

"Sure."

"Then come here."

He pulls me to him and takes another puff from the joint. He looks at me for a while. I try to take the joint from him but it's just sooo faaaaar. And he takes it away so fast. And he crashes his lips to mine. Fine, I'll kiss him. He holds my head to his and I feel him blow the smoke into my mouth. So _that's_ what he's doing! I push the smoke down into my lungs and blow back into his mouth. It's like my brain's climbed out of my head and is looking at us from outside of me. I can see us, making out with smoke seeping out of our mouths.

That's pretty hot.

And Sai's a great kisser.

**. . .**

_**A/N: **__I feel like I'm going to get slugged for this. I hope nobody flags me for writing in drug use. Again, I'm not promoting it._

_Well, anyway. There you go! Twenty-one pages._

_By the way, I'm not getting paid by Poptart. It's just the first thing that came to my mind. If it gets you to eat Poptarts, um... You're welcome?_


	11. Wobbly

_**A/N:**__ Sorry it took so long. I was busy being a hipster and reading books and downloading indie music and feeling whimsical. Thankfully, not much of it overflowed and tainted this._

_Right. This is where I try not to be too predictable._

_People are liking Sai way too much. What have I done?_

**. . .**

**Wasted – Chapter 11**

**Wobbly**

**. . .**

"What do you remember?"

Could he stop laughing? There's a hole in my memory, I got home without my socks or my shirt under my coat last Friday and now I can't find them. This is not funny. Sai's just laughing his ass off in his corner of the art room while I look through every drawer and cloth bin to find any remnants of my shirt. I can only imagine what art students might have done with it in the two and a half days (the weekend and this morning) it took me to realise I didn't have it anymore.

Sai and Gaara keep telling me that I took it off on my own when I got too warm, but of the few things I remember throughout the whole evening, one of the clearer memories I have is making out with Sai. So, really, I'm not sure I should believe them. I mean, I know myself. Maybe being high was a new experience for me, but making out is not and getting my clothes taken off in the process is very probable.

"That's the problem, I don't remember anything."

It's weird, too, because I remember being _so_ lucid. I mean, I was tripping, but everything I did or said was deliberate. I could think through something I was about to do, on the contrary of when I'm drunk, where I just do stuff and make interesting discoveries when I'm sober. And while drinking leaves me with splitting headaches, I'm usually sober by the next morning. Saturday morning, not only did I have the worst hangover of my life, I still felt some effects of the weed. It was as if I were still high. And I didn't like it.

Then again, I don't like alcohol hangovers either.

Sai's gone back to working on my Poptart. Kankurou and Gaara are helping Gaara's girlfriend – Matsuri, as I found out five minutes ago – cutting fabric to make our movie's costumes. My notes from my New Cinema class lie open on the table next to Sai's and my laptop sits with them, diligently waiting for me to get back to my research about the French New Wave. My phone's right next to it, keeping my pencil case silent company.

I haven't heard from Sasuke since Friday. I can't decide if he's giving me the cold shoulder or if he's just busy. When I last spoke to him, he seemed tired and angry, but he never explained why he was. I figured that he'd call me when things were better, so I decided to wait. No need to hassle him, it might only make him angrier. He still hasn't called, though, and I'm worried. It's not even because I miss the sex – even though I kind of do – but because something really seemed wrong. He's the one who wants us to be friends, and while we _were_ getting closer to actually being the "buddy" part of our deal, I feel like I'm falling short. He's the actual friendly one, and "friendly" here is not meant as a double-entendre (because if it were, I'd be very friendly too). So, I want to help him. Or at least cheer him up; get his mind off what's upsetting him.

I tried calling and texting him, yesterday, but he never answered. I tried Facebook, but he never logs on. I tried emails, too. Doesn't answer those either. I'm just about to send him an owl or a pigeon or smoke signals or Morse code or _something_. I can't seriously be the only one out of the two of us who's still holding on to our deal. _He _suggested it! And the least he could do is tell me he's out.

And what if he finally decides to call me when we've started filming? Then _I_ won't be available and he might give up on _me_. Not that, you know, I'd be sad if he did, but I... wouldn't... want to disappoint him. Yeah.

I give up. My shirt is nowhere to be seen and I really need to get back to my homework. I go to sit back down next to Sai and get back to my research. If there's one good thing about Sasuke going MIA, it's that I get to spend time with Sai. His company's very enjoyable and he's a great listener. Well, that or he's too high to answer what I say with longer words than "No!", "Yeah?", "That's cool" and "Haha!". But I've witnessed him being perfectly capable of longer sentences while intoxicated, so I think he really is just a great listener.

I don't want to tell him about Sasuke. Not only is it really none of his business, but I'm kind of worried about how he'd react. Would he understand? Or would he think badly of me? I think he'd be disappointed. I mean, to him, I'm freaking Rococo! He said it! And I looked it up; I'm supposed to be about gallant wooing and coquettish bashfulness, not sex in exchange for professionally-made breakfast.

Sai hasn't asked me if I have a boyfriend, yet. You'd think it'd be his concern, considering he made out with me last week. Oh, fine, he was giving me more smoke. Still! I could've pushed him away or slapped him or yelled... Or all three. Maybe because I didn't do anything to stop him, he understood that I'm not taken. Does everybody around me really only rely on the Schrödinger's Cat approach to things? Because, seriously, it's become the least nerdy intellectual thing to be aware of in this day and age. And besides, if you put any living thing in an enclosed environment with components that in any other context would affect, maim or kill it, chances are, the results won't be positive. No need to try to guess.

That cat was dead.

Poor cat.

"Hey, Sakura? Was your shirt grey and white?" Kankurou asks from the supply room.

"Yeah, stripes with a bunch of flowers. Why?"

"Flowers in the middle, right?"

"Yes, with their leaves, why?"

"What colour were the flowers?"

"Gold and blue, _why?_"

He emerges from the supply room with a brown-haired girl whom I have never seen before and _hey!_ She's wearing my shirt! Well, if you can call the torn, mangled, slathered in bright green paint piece of grey fabric with gold and blue writing and two holes that resemble the former three-quarter sleeves it once bore a shirt. The girl's orange (_orange!_) bra can be seen through some of the rips and the bottom half of my shirt is gone, revealing a flabby (I swear, it's flabby, I'm not being mean; only observant) stomach. The fabric bunches up at her sides and seems about to burst at the seams around her shoulders.

Sai bursts into a new fit of laughter, quickly followed by Gaara and Matsuri. Kankurou just stands, a smirk on his face, with the girl who looks completely confused. I'm stunned, rendered speechless by the carnage my shirt seems to have been a victim of over the weekend. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Matsuri wiping tears of laughter out of her eyes and Gaara holding his sides from the pain in his abdominal region. Behind me, I hear a stool fall over with a clang and a loud thud, indicating that Sai has just thrown his head back with laughter so hard it enabled him to get to know the floor more intimately.

The noise makes me snap out of the staring contest I'm having with my former shirt and the others' laughter only doubles in intensity. The girl seems to take it as an offense and stomps back into the supply room. I roll my eyes at the spot where she stood and turn back to my homework.Sure, I'm not happy about losing that shirt and I want to tear her eyes out for stealing and butchering it, but the Art kids' hysterics are only going to get worse if I act on it. Besides, in all honesty, if that's the worst that's going to happen to me for doing drugs in school, I'm not that peeved.

I expected someone to walk in on us, someone to get a whiff of the smoke and come barging in, screaming at us about our mental stability. Even now, it doesn't seem possible or even remotely fair that we weren't punished for what we did. And the fact alone that it wasn't the first time _they_ smoked in the art room and that _I_ decided to try it that particular day was reason enough to cause a quintessential TV drama scene when someone barges in and jumps to conclusions, those conclusions either being that I've done this as often as the others and we're all addicts, or that I'm a poor victim of peer pressure and I'm being forced to smoke up against my will and other such redundant things, but absolutely nothing happened. Besides the shirt casualty.

No matter. I shall now swear to myself that I will never, _ever_ do drugs inside the school again. Even if it was pretty fun.

Sai and I haven't really talked about the kiss. And it's not like we haven't talked. We spent most of the weekend texting and talking with the Facebook chat. Admittedly, it's not the most personal way to converse, but I find that it allows me a lot more freedom in what I say, how I reply to what he says. I have time to sort through my thoughts, to decide what the best answer is, to make sure I don't ridicule myself.

He's also a lot more talkative that way. His abuse of basic grammar annoys me a little, but I try to forget it. It's not like he's completely incomprehensible. And he's nice. He says nice things, genuinely nice things. He doesn't take himself too seriously and basically puts me on a pedestal for my "flawless colour palette" and the "absolute grace of your whole being, Sakura", as if I had anything to do with the colour scheme I was born with and how graceful I look when I do homework. Really, he should be congratulating my gene-givers, they did all the work.

Ew, mental image of parental intercourse.

Anyway. Yeah, he also asked me if I was okay, if I recovered well from Friday night. He wanted to make sure I was alright! Really, that's just sweet. Then we talked about movies and music and art (another good thing about chatting: I can use my course notes and Wikipedia without him knowing) and food and school and people, besides Sasuke, and our families and by three o'clock this, I knew practically everything about him.

He was born on November 25th. He lost his parents when he was really young and he doesn't remember them. His foster father, Danzou, is very strict and controlling, and art is his way of escaping that. He has a foster brother, Shin, who was the one to discover his artistic abilities. He convinced Danzou to let Sai apply to our school's art program, to which Danzou agreed under the condition that Sai pay for it. Shin helped Sai gather the money for the program, which is a lot cheaper than art school and almost as good. He already knows he's getting a scholarship to go to a prestigious art school next year. Shin is studying abroad, now and they barely see each other.

As I already know, his favourite artistic period is Rococo, his favourite movie is _The Naked Island_, which I'm surprised he's seen because it's an old Japanese art film from 1960 and which I'm surprised he liked because it has absolutely no dialogue and barely any action. I know this because we watched it in class last semester and I personally found it extremely boring. When I pointed it out to him, he said that from an artist's point of view, it was "easier to see it as the masterpiece it is". Right. The interminable shots _are_ very beautiful, indeed. But they're interminable. He doesn't have a favourite colour and his favourite band is one I'd never heard of before. He's quite proud of his abs – his foster father put him in karate lessons as soon as he was declared his official guardian – and has a tendency to make jokes about other guys' penis size, although he never talks about his, not even to brag.

He buys weed only from people he knows in reasonable quantities, he doesn't have a secret stash and he doesn't deal. "What I buy, I smoke... Or let other people smoke," he says. He doesn't drink and only smokes up when his school day is done. He'd rather go for the brownie route in school, to avoid the smell, but he can't bake to save his life.

He once went to extreme lengths to get a girl to go out with him, drawing and painting for her, taking pictures and making beautiful, heartfelt cards that he slipped into her locker. She took that much persuading because she was convinced he was gay, which, when she admitted it, turned him off her instantly. He instead decided to focus on art and buried himself into his work for his portfolio and the money for college. And when he got into the program, he was so far gone that girls just slipped off his radar.

Until I came along, he claims.

I told him of my ex, the year that followed our break up and the bad habits I picked up along the way. He doesn't condemn them and says that while he really likes me, he'd rather we be friends (without benefits, as was implied) before anything else. Get to know each other, then decide if we're worth a shot. He has no interest in sleeping with me as long as we're not in love.

I don't have the heart to tell him it might never happen.

**. . .**

Sometimes, you have dreams so vivid, it takes you a while to realise they haven't actually happened. When you wake up, you remember feeling everything as if it were real. Then later, you struggle to remember if you were asleep or awake when it happened. And you think of _Inception_ and you try to think of what was out of place, what gave away that you were only dreaming. Sometimes, you don't find anything. Sometimes it's just too realistic or too simple to have impossible elements.

I have such dreams. I've had them forever. I have dreams in series, too. Not ones that pick up where the last one stopped, but the same ones over and over again. Good dreams and bad. When I was a kid, I had a nightmare about being in my basement and the lights went down. I called my mom for help. She came down the stairs in complete darkness, then her face caught a ray of light from a small window and her face was that of an evil clown with pupil-less eyes. My basement creeps me out and I'm not too comfortable being alone in the dark, now. And when the lights go out in my dreams, I know they're about to turn into nightmares and I've developed the ability to wake myself up.

I have series of good dreams, too. Like the one where I was sitting in a flower field in a pretty yellow dress next to a man, a different one each time, and I was pregnant. It was pleasant because it was peaceful and bright, but a little spooky because I could actually feel the baby kicking inside of me, which is not something to take lightheartedly. I could also feel the man's big, warm hands holding me, making me feel safe and at ease. That dream started when I was fifteen, at a moment in my life where I was most anxious to grow up and get pregnant. The pregnancy-craze passed, but the dreams remained.

Sometimes, I have dreams that make me feel vivid emotions. Fear, yes, but also anger, happiness, nervousness , hope and most powerful of all of them, heartache. I swear, I can wake up and still feel a pain in my chest and have an irresistible urge to cry. Sometimes because of what happened in the dream and sometimes because I didn't want to wake up.

But the most confusing of all are the dreams about practically nothing. There's no action, no dialogue, no touching, no fading of light. I just see things that I mostly can't place, that I don't remember seeing while I was conscious. However, when I do recall what I'm seeing, it gets even more confusing.

And last night, well, last night gave me one of those. Actually, I had it all week. Usually, my dreams are dictated by what's going on in my conscious life, like stress, fatigue, hunger or happiness, or by what I thought about while falling asleep, like school, people, parties, food, a book I'm reading or a movie I've seen recently. On Monday, I even worried I'd dream of my parents having sex.

But this week, I dreamt of Sasuke.

Not Sasuke in his entirety, though. Parts of him. His eyes, his hands, his shoulder blades. I didn't see them as cut-outs, each as individuals, though. It was more like he was all there, but only those parts of him were in the spotlights, the rest of him being drowned in darkness. I wanted to touch his hands, his big, warm hands, and the smooth skin of his upper back. I wanted him to touch me with those hands of his, brush my jaw and my neck and my shoulders and slip down my back and then back up again. I wanted it, but nothing happened. I couldn't feel anything. And I had no physical representation inside the dream, so I couldn't reach out to him. I just saw.

In my dream, his eyes kept changing colours. Sometimes they were gray, sometimes they were blue or brown or green or just black, and sometimes they had this tinge of red that soothed me and scared me at the same time. The muscles on his upper back were clenched, as if he were straining against something, making some sort of physical effort that involved his shoulders. I could see the muscled rippling under his skin and my urge to touch him intensified, but I was still paralysed. Because that's what I realised I was when I woke up. It's not that I wasn't in the dream; I simply couldn't move.

I've been brewing these thoughts all morning. We're Thursday and I still haven't heard from Sasuke. Thanks to Sai, though, I've been spending less and less time thinking about him. I'm more irritated at him than anxious to get a vital sign, but when I'm alone, it's difficult to keep him out of my head and to not worry. I haven't had the chance to ask Hinata if he's still going to his classes, but I haven't seen him in the school either. It's ironic, how when I didn't want him to find me, I kept running into him, and now that _I_ want to see him, he's nowhere to be found.

I'm walking to the library to pass the time until my first class of the day. It's the only other way I've found to keep my mind off Sasuke and I really need a distraction. My phone vibrates in my jeans' pocket, indicating I've received a new text. I'm expecting something from Sai, but it's Ino – I've really gotten close to him if I think of him before I think of Ino. It's really cryptic.

_**FROM:**_

_**Ino**_

_**Be careful at school.**_

_**8:26A Thurs Mar 03**_

What? Careful? Why? Is there a serial killer out to get all of us? Is a hurricane about to hit the school? Has the floor really become lava?

I push the door of the library open and step inside. I stalk to the Art History bookshelf and try to find books about Rococo. According to the course outline, it's the next thing we'll see in class and I want to know as much as possible about it. And it may or may not have something to do with Sai. I gather a good pile and walk to a table. I get my notebook out and open the book on top of the pile. I flip the pages, trying to find interesting content and zone out.

I don't know how long I've been sitting there before some taps me on the shoulder. I finish writing my sentence into my notebook, make a mental note of which paragraph I was reading and turn around to see who's bothering me.

My heart stops and my stomach sinks into my heels. And not in a good way. Then anger shoots up into my chest and my blood starts to boil. Because standing in front of me is the one person I didn't want to see. Not just this morning, but ever. It's actually someone I didn't expect to see here. Here in the library and here in school. I want to pounce at him and scratch his face off with my nails. I want to kick him in the balls and then rip them off his body and make him eat them. I want to scream, scream so loud his ears start bleeding, so loud the windows explode and bits of glass lodge themselves into his skin, his lungs, his brains, his heart.

"Hey, Sakura."

"Idate."

It's my ex.

**. . .**

He's coaxed me out of the library with the promise of breakfast in the school cafeteria – without Sasuke, I don't get breakfast in the morning – and is keeping a respectful distance from me. I glare at him the whole way, still debating whether I should attack him now or wait until there are no more witnesses.

I usually have pretty tame feelings about him. Thoughts of mild annoyance, at worst resentment for two years of my life wasted on someone who was with me only for sex – oh, the irony – but just the sight of him, right at the moment I'm not on good terms with my source of satisfaction and on too nice, not-going-anywhere terms with my source of happiness, makes me tap into my most primal urge to slaughter.

We make it to the cafeteria and as promised, he buys me French toast. It's not as good as at Sasuke's place, but oh well. At least I'm eating for free. We walk to a slightly remote corridor lined with tables, where only a handful of other students sit, and we settle down face to face. My seething expression must be comical as I pour syrup onto my breakfast and cut a piece of toast to stuff it in my mouth, but I really can't get my face to do anything else.

He watches me eat in silence, which leads me to wonder why he wanted to buy me breakfast in the first place, but once I'm done, he takes my tray and brings it to one of the garbage bins where we can leave our trays, then sits back down in front of me.

"So..." he starts. "How are you?"

How am I? _HOW AM I!_ I'm a mess, _thankyouverymuch!_ I've barred love out of my life, my bed-buddy won't talk to me, I've slept with more guys than there are pages in my pre-prod paperwork in the past year and I don't even know to whom I lost my virginity. All because you made me feel like a worthless piece of nothing by cheating on me and blaming me for everything that's wrong in the world and then disposing of me like a dirty, torn sock a fucking _week _before my fucking _birthday!_ And I thought I was done with you! I thought you'd left forever! But nooo, you just waltz right back in like you fucking own the place and you buy me breakfast and have the balls to ask me how I am when you just know how anyone would be after being betrayed by someone the way I was by you.

"I'm fine."

Okay, so maybe I don't exactly have to guts to tell him all of that. So what? He doesn't even deserve it. There's an unbearable silence and I know I have to break it.

"What are you doing here?" I say as dryly as I can.

"I'm meeting someone," he says matter-of-factly.

"Who?"

"A friend of mine," he looks at my face. "Male, if you must know." Pff, I don't care. His tone is so lighthearted, I want to suckerpunch him. "But I saw you, and I wanted to check up on you."

"_Why?_" I can practically hear the venom in my voice. Good.

"Well, I... I didn't exactly make it pretty when I left you, so..." Oh, perfect, he looks uncomfortable.

"Nope, you did not." My turn to be lighthearted. I feel like I'm gaining the upper hand.

"So?"

"I still hate you."

"Yeah, that... That makes sense."

He doesn't avert his eyes, but I just know I'm on top, now.

"So, what? You want me back?" The idea makes me want to vomit.

"No."

"Good."

"But... I saw Ino on the way. We talked."

Oooh, that's the reason for the text. I bet he ambushed her and forced her to tell him about me and how I'm doing. I'll have to remember to buy her ice cream tonight.

"So what?"

"Sakura, I realise that what I did was the worst thing I could've ever done to you and you didn't deserve any of it."

"Understatement of the decade."

"And I understand that you might want to rip my head off, right now."

"Yeah, amongst other things."

"With reason," he takes a minute to look at me carefully. "But you can't punish yourself for what I did. It doesn't make sense."

"Who says I'm punishing myself?"

"Sakura," he sighs. "Your sleeping around really doesn't do anything to me. It's yourself you're hurting the most. You can't keep going like this. You're throwing yourself away."

"Well, you should've thought of that before." I sound like a child. Damn.

"I know! I know and I'm sorry. This is me making up for it."

"How are you making up for _anything_ you did to me?"

"I'm here to help you."

"I don't need your help."

"Yes, you do. You can't shut love out forever."

"Says who?"

"Says me. It's not who you are."

"You don't know me. Don't pretend like you do."

"Of course I do. We dated for two years. Of course I know you! You're not this kind of person!"

"What kind of person?" Goddamnit, he's winning. I'm shrinking down.

"The kind who doesn't care. You can't _not _care, Sakura. You know it, because unless it's a somewhat stable relationship, you have to be inebriated to be close to someone. You need that stability and you use alcohol to forget that you do. I made you scared to let people in and for that, I'mso very sorry, but you're the kind of person who falls in love."

I stay quiet, because he makes too much sense, and I don't want him to know. Anything I'll say now, he'll use against me, so I just listen. I feel tears well up in my eyes and I can't decide whether it's because of what he's saying or because he's saying it. And he's winning. No, he wins. I give up. I can't win this conversation anymore, so I'll just let him have it. Whether he's right about me or not, I don't want to argue. I'm suddenly too tired and too weak to fight him.

"Ino told me about Sasuke. It's not right, Sakura. It's not who you are. And you might think that you're playing him and that you're in control, but eventually, you'll realise or accept that you feel something for him and that day, you'll understand that you never had any control at all. And he might not feel the same way and you'll feel as betrayed as you did with me."

I close my eyes and open then just as quickly because I saw Sasuke's face and I can't. I won't. Tears flow freely down my face and I don't even bother to wipe them.

"And if it's that other one, Sai, I think, then it's him. But you have to let yourself feel. If you just let them in without any consideration for what you feel, you'll just get hurt. Don't do this to yourself."

He stops. I think he's done. I don't remember him being so smart, so eloquent, so insightful. He sends me a small, sad smile, gets up and leaves. I sit there for a while, my body jerking with each sob that I try to contain.

I hurts. It hurts because I thought I'd become the kind of girl he wished he had, the kind of girl that's strong and confident and in complete power of herself and her sexuality. It hurts because in just ten minutes, he's yanked me from the pedestal I'm not entirely sure who put me on and hurled me to the ground, battered and bruised and begging for mercy. It hurts because after all this time and all this change and all these guys, he's still the superior person and he can still see right through me.

It hurts because, goddamnit, I can't tell whom I want to see most, Sai or Sasuke.

Instead of deciding, I pick up my bag, pull my phone out of my pocket and as I walk, I dial Ino's number.

**. . .**

_**A/N: **__So. Sakura's ex. When I wrote the ninth chapter's Author's Note, I checked back on the previous chapters to see if I'd already decided who was Sakura's ex, because my memory's not awesome. Apparently, I did a really crappy job of it because I had and I didn't find it. So, I wrote the A/N to ask you guys to help me, then I posted the chapter and went on with my life._

_However, before starting to write the tenth chapter, I did another check for continuity and I found that I had in fact put Idate as Sakura's ex in the third chapter. I panicked for a few seconds and went to change the A/N, but I got the first review for the ninth chapter that suggested another character. Apparently, I'm not the only one with a really bad memory (but I guess I'm worse because I'm the one writing it. Sorry about that)._

_So, I left it as is and decided to see who would remember and figure it out. Henceforth, if you got a "Thanks for your suggestion, I shall consider it" or something resembling that, it was me telling you that we have the same terrible memory._

_Two people did get it right, and that's __Sapherindrial__ (whose name is just really epic), although she initially sent me suggestions too. She sent another review from the third chapter where I indeed had written that Ino said to Naruto "_She vowed she wouldn't fall in love after what that asshole Idate did to her_". The other person is __Freud__. Yep, Sigmund Freud reads my stuff. So, yeah. We all have amnesia (Alzheimer's is too tragic) but their case isn't as bad as the rest of ours._

_Thank you all for reviewing, though, and I really appreciate everyone who sent in suggestions. Had I not written that it was Idate, your reviews would've helped a whole lot!_


	12. Work and Wager

_**A/N: **__So... It's my birthday again. And I'm giving _you _something. I hope you'll enjoy._

**. . .**

**Wasted – Chapter 12**

**. . .**

**Part One**

**Work**

**. . .**

When I do make it in the film industry, I know I'm going to be the kind of person that buries herself in work and alcohol to forget about her personal life. That was my second response to Idate's life-coach speech. My original response was to botch my Art History midterm and run home bawling like a baby, where I stayed for the rest of the week. I asked Ino to pick up the Art students' work on her own because I didn't trust myself to face Sai. She agreed because I sounded like crap.

She'd been expecting my call after seeing Idate. He didn't ambush her as I suspected, but to her, it was clear that he was going to seek me out. She let it slip that I've been sleeping around since he broke up with me and it seemed to have upset him, because he kept asking questions until she told him everything. She couldn't call me afterwards because he caught her right before one of her classes started and I'm guessing I got it that late because she was somewhere phone service is crap. Had I known sooner, I would've left school. It would've spared me the pain. She was considerate enough not to give me her "I told you so" speech, which I'm sure she's already prepared for when the time is right.

Sai texted me Thursday night. When I didn't answer, he tried calling, to which I didn't answer either, so he just kept texting. It's only at two in the morning that I realised I wouldn't be able to sleep, so I decided to read his texts instead. I hesitated at first, because I thought it would only make me feel worse, but I found I was wrong.

_**FROM:**_

_**Sai**_

_**u coming to the art room?**_

_**5:23P Thurs Mar 03**_

**. . .**

_**FROM:**_

_**Sai**_

_**is somethig worng?**_

_**6:37P Thurs Mar 03**_

**. . .**

_**FROM:**_

_**Sai**_

_**call me**_

_**6:51P Thurs Mar 03**_

**. . .**

_**FROM:**_

_**Sai**_

_**ino says u saw ur ex**_

_**are u ok?**_

_**7:09P Thurs Mar 03**_

**. . .**

_**FROM:**_

_**Sai**_

_**u told me about him**_

_**u dont have to go thru this alone**_

_**7:17P Thurs Mar 03**_

**. . .**

_**FROM:**_

_**Sai**_

_**sakura plz pick up **_

_**7:34P Thurs Mar 03**_

**. . .**

_**FROM:**_

_**Sai**_

_**(Part 1/2) sakrua just remember**_

_**taht ur an awesome person and**_

_**u deserve so much better then**_

_**how he treated u... im here for **_

_**if u need someone just**_

_**11:58P Thurs Mar 03**_

**. . .**

_**FROM:**_

_**Sai**_

_**(Part 2/2) dont shut me out**_

_**if theres anything i can do just**_

_**tell me any time **_

_**11:58P Thurs Mar 03**_

By the time I was done, a new wave of fresh tears was flowing down my face. Even his terrible spelling doesn't make it easier to read his texts. I want his help, I want him to listen and make my problems go away, but I'd have to tell him about Sasuke and I'm really not up for that. If he knew, he might want to fight for me and he'll start being obvious and deliberate in his flirting with me and I don't want that. I mean, sure, he's nice now, but my ex was just as nice when we started dating and look where I am now.

It's now Spring Break and Ino and I are spending the entire week out of town, doing most of the filming for our final project. It's like I slipped into a warm, bright bubble of tranquility. I'm in my head, entirely focused on my work, trying to be as efficient as possible. Ino directs, I man the camera and we got Kiba, our classmate and Ino's current boy-toy, to act as our sound tech. Everything runs so smoothly, the two days we've done so far have both ended earlier than expected. The actors are good, the weather's on our side and Ino and I know exactly where we're headed with what we're shooting.

The only hitch we encountered was my period that hit this morning, on a Sunday as it does one month out of two, while we were standing in the middle of a forest, shooting a chase, about half a mile from the nearest bathroom. There was a brief moment of panic, mostly on Ino's part, which in retrospect was goddamn hilarious, and one of the actresses graciously drove me to a convenience store and offered me one of her pads.

Recounting the anecdote now, as we're all sitting in Ino's father's basement, in front of the giant TV screen of his home theater on which we're watching our rushes to see if we're missing anything, boozing on dessert wine and bottled strawberry Daiquiri, it all seems extremely funny. I like being drunk. Not all the time, don't get me wrong, but when I am, I feel good. I feel better than when I'm high, as if I were more in control. And I have more energy.

I haven't told Ino about my recent dip into drugs. I reckon she's still sore about Kakeru and she wouldn't forgive me if she knew. And I need her. If I'm going to be avoiding Sai and living without Sasuke in my pants, because that's the kind of future I seem to be headed towards, I'll need someone to talk (read: whine) to, someone who'll cheer me up.

Our mistakes and mishaps on the screen seem funnier with the added help of the dessert wine and soon, we're all howling with laughter. The male actor I'm sitting next to leans gradually more and more against my arm and the warmth his body radiates keeps me where I am. At some point, my head plops down to rest on his shoulder, which he doesn't protest and instead stretches an arm around me to make it more comfortable for the both of us. Sometimes, he turns to brush his lips against the top of my head, sometimes I look up at him and we talk in hushed tones while the others keep on being loud. I know I'll be hard pressed to recall anything we said tomorrow, but I can hardly get myself to care. I feel too good.

We pass the wine around, we recount shenanigans that didn't get filmed, we watch Ino dance to imaginary music then collapse on Kiba's lap and by ten o'clock, we all _really_ need to take a leak. It's a race to the bathroom that leaves us laughing even harder and once everyone's done the deed, Ino and I order a lights out. We might be drunk out of our minds, but we've done this before and we know that we shouldn't add lack of sleep to everyone's inevitable hangover if we want to be as productive tomorrow.

Also, both Ino and I have specimen of the male population to tend to.

The female actresses and the other male actor, who's as into girls as meatloaf – but absolutely amazing at acting contrary to his sexual orientation – slip into sleeping bags installed on camping mattresses in the basement. Ino, Kiba, my piece of man-meat and I stagger upstairs. I barely register Ino disappearing into her room with Kiba before pushing my night's entertainment into the guest bedroom.

This room feels about as familiar as my room back home. I spent so much time here in elementary and high school, Ino's dad often joked that he would send adoption papers to my parents. I don't even need to turn on the light to find my way around. As soon as the door slams behind me, I'm all over my actor.

I haven't had sex in a while, not by choice, and even then, the last time was so frustratingly unsatisfying, everything feels ten times better than my previous encounter. His lips, his tongue, his hands, his entire body, warm and hard against mine, everything confirms my choice of jumping this person who's technically my employee. I mean, thank God for actors. They know they need to look fit and sexy if they want to make it anywhere, so they take _really _good care of their bodies. Also, they know that any acting opportunity could lead to their big break, and they're not above sleeping with the boss to get there.

It's corrupt and somewhat terrible, but in this case, I'm the boss, so I don't mind. It's actually kind of sexy.

I know I won't remember much of this when I wake up tomorrow, but that's never stopped me in the past. Sure, with Sasuke, it was better to remember everything, but–

No.

No, I'm not letting him ruin my night.

No more thinking about him.

Back to the task at hand.

I rip his shirt off of him and attack his pants. He pulls me to him by pressing his hands on my butt and bends down to bury his head in the crook of my neck. His hands slip upwards under my shirt and unclasp my bra, then pull everything off faster than I can realise it. He plays with my boobs for a moment while I struggle to slide his pants and boxers down. Before they're off, he slips his hand in his pocket and retrieves a bunch of condoms. Good, he came prepared.

When he's finally exposed, I grab his penis and give a single, powerful pump of my hand to make him understand that I'm in charge. I'm the boss, I get to decide. His mouth comes back to mine and he peels my pants off me. It's when he gets started on my panties that I realise something.

I'm on my period.

How could I forget that?

How could _anyone _forget that?

Why is he still pulling my underwear down?

I push him away, weirded out. He looks at me with a mix of surprise, confusion and, I must admit, undeniable lust. I cling on to my panties, slightly mortified and even more frustrated than before. I have to tell him, which is embarrassing in its own right, but doing so will guarantee a cease fire and I don't think I can last five days. Especially if I'm going to spend those five days around him literally all the time and around Ino and Kiba in the honeymoon phase of their fuck-buddy relationship. I remember how Sasuke and I were, plus Ino's a contender for Sex Addict of the Year and Kiba just one gigantic horndog, so it's bound to be excruciating.

Just when that thought passes through my head, we start to hear loud moans from next door and a headboard slamming into the wall. Goddamnit.

"I'm on my period," I let out, waiting for his erection to flop down. It doesn't.

"I know," he says, panting.

Wait, _what!?_ He knew and he kept going?

"I've always wanted to have period sex," he adds.

Oh, thank _God_ for actors!

They're ready to do anything and this one more than the rest, even to pretend he has a period fetish. It doesn't take any more than that for me. I jump at him, hurl him to the bed, drop my panties to the ground and climb on the bed to mount him. I'm the boss, I'm on top. He slips a condom on, then guides my hips to hover above his erection. He thrust up into me and then I'm riding him for all I'm worth.

I must admit I'm screaming a bit louder than I should, but I'm trying to one-up Ino. My actor's letting his voice out as well, but I have no way of knowing if it's genuine. For all I know, we could both be faking it to win the Loudest Sex Award. Also, I'm sort of encouraging him, because as good as it feels, he's not as skilled as, _ahem_, other partners I've had. So, maybe that's what he's doing too.

Oh, who cares? If I don't come, I'll just get him to go another round.

Besides, we got the headboard to bang against the wall.

**. . .**

Sasuke's eyes. Black. No, blue. No, green. No, grey.

No. _Red._

Locking with mine. Boring into my mind, seeing what I'm thinking, what I'm feeling.

Pupils, dilated. Bringing his irises back to black. Bottomless, piercing, maddening.

Now soft. Eyelids closing.

I open mine.

**. . .**

So, um...

What's the actor doing in my bed? Naked?

I'm wearing my panties, but the sheets are gone, so I'm guessing we had sex and then had the decency to clean up a bit. He doesn't have any blood on him, so either my panties never came off or he took a shower. And yes, I realise how disgusting this idea is and how weird it is that I'm so detached.

I sit up and plop back down on the mattress when I'm hit by the full force of my hangover. Add to that the usual dehydration that comes with having a period and my head feels like it's splitting in two. The blinds on the window are mercifully closed and only very little sunlight seeps in. I (literally) crawl out of the bed and feel around for my clothes on my hands and knees, choosing to keep my eyes closed as long as possible.

As I hook on my bra, I hear a grunt behind me. Hopefully, he's not waking up. I won't be ready for this awkward conversation until I've talked to Ino and ingested some caffeine. I slip into my pyjamas and hurry out of the room without so much as glancing at him.

It's not that I'm not used to awkward conversations. In fact, I stopped worrying about them when I stopped keeping track of how many guys I slept with. By that time, I was on seven of them's speed-dial, I'd started carrying condoms with me and I'd fit pregnancy tests into my monthly budget plan, along with the pill and my cellphone bill. The problem with this particular conversation is that I still have to spend the rest of the week directing this dude, whereas I usually never address another word to my night's entertainment after we've done the entertaining. Except for the booty calls, but even then, very few words are uttered.

I step into the kitchen. Contrary to what I would've expected, the sight of Ino brings a frown to my face. She's glowing. She has that glow that one can only achieve with morning sex. Or a pregnancy, but I refuse to accept that option. She has this goofy smile and a special sparkle in her eyes, and the whole of her blissful body language really pisses me off, because I used to look like that.

"My God, Sakura, what's wrong?" She asks, looking somewhat genuinely concerned. "I'd have thought with the night you had, you'd look a little better."

Okay, that smug smirk really isn't necessary.

"Shut up," I grumble, making my way over to the cupboard where the coffee mugs are kept.

"Hey, be nice." She points at me with a spatula and I realise that she's making pancakes. "You're gonna need my friendship today."

"Why?"

"Well, first of all, I'm making breakfast, and I could just accidentally drop the salt shaker in your ladle of batter. Or forget to cook your share of bacon."

"Your threats don't scare me."

"They should."

"The actors have to suck up as much to me as to you."

"Yes, I heard that. Last night." I gasp, falsely offended.

"Bitch."

"Oh, look! The salt shaker is just _so_ close to my ladle."

"My minions will sacrifice their breakfast to me. You need a better incentive for me to be nice to you."

There's a silence. A _really _awkward silence, at that. It doesn't take a genius to understand that Ino wants to tell me something that she knows I won't appreciate and she's dreading the moment the words spill past her lips. She seems to take a particular interest in the pancake she's just flipped and it's now her turn to frown.

"Ino?" She doesn't answer. "Dude, what's wron-"

"Sai's coming over."

"... When?"

Okay, that's not the question you should've asked, Sakura. I would've recommended inquiring about the reason of Sai's visit or showing my disbelief and outrage with a startled "What!?"; I would _not _have asked about the instance of his arrival, because it's not something that's supposed to matter to me.

But the thing is, I couldn't help the feeling of excitement that rushed through me for half a second, just as much as I can't help the feeling of disgust towards myself that's now overtaking my brain. Ino, unaware of my inner head-to-wall slamming, tries and fails to answer matter-of-factly.

"On Friday. I didn't have any space in my car for the 3D human-sized goldfish, so I asked him to bring it over."

I simply stare at her, my face blank – well, as blank as I can make it. She shrinks under my gaze, looking more and more uncomfortable with each second that passes. _Good._

"B-besides, we might need an extra pair of hands."

"I DO NOT NEED HIS HANDS."

Crickets.

Okay, that came out without my consent. And in a _way _too high-pitched tone to sound even remotely normal. Ino eyes me with pity, now, and I'm perfectly aware of why she does. Eleven years of friendship makes two people too in tune with each other to ignore the obvious signs of denial and-slash-or yearning, or any other kind of emotion.

Ino knew when I fell in love with Idate before I did and I had to _tell_ her she wasn't in love with her first boyfriend because she couldn't figure out that it was the idea of a boyfriend that charmed her, not the boy himself (it's a shame, too, because he was probably the most decent guy she's ever had in her life).

"Oh, Sakura," she circles the counter to me and takes me in her arms. I let myself be taken but otherwise make no move to return the gesture. In fact, I've gone limp. "Don't worry. It'll be fine."

"Mn."

"I..." She starts. "I think you should trust him."

I know what she means by that. It's not that I don't trust him right now. If I didn't, I wouldn't have talked to him in the first place. She means that I should trust him not to do what my ex did. She means I should put an end to my celibacy and give a shot at falling in love again.

And... I don't know.

Especially now, with the actor I suspect I had sex with last night (there really is no other explanation as to why he slept in the same bed as me and why we woke up in only our underwear). How am I going to explain that one? Plus, I'm sure that kid will come on to me again before the end of the week.

"Sai's a good guy, Sakura."

Well, of course he is. I know that. He's charming and smart and funny and he likes my colour scheme. He's not pushy about sex (or anything, really), he's not overly arrogant and certain of his ability to get me like _someone_ I know, he's not rude and there's not a shred of violence in him. I mean, sure, he smokes up every once in a while, but that's not a deal breaker. Besides, he's an artist, which is a quality in itself and it explains the drug use. Sort of. Really, there's no doubt that he's the perfect boyfriend.

I don't even know why I'm hesitating. I haven't known him that long, but what I do know about him is more than I've known about the vast majority of men in my life. Hell, I know more about him than about Sasuke. We don't have that much in common, but then, neither do Sasuke and I.

And Sai cares about me. That counts. I haven't spoken to Sasuke in _weeks_. He's just like any other booty call I've had. We don't care about each other outside of sex. That's how these things work and that's how we are, now. Ino prefers Sai, so he even gets along with my best friend. Really, he's perfect.

I just...

...

I'll see when he gets here.

**. . .**

**Part Two**

**Wager**

**. . .**

I slip out of bed, leaving the actor snoring into his pillow. I slip on my shirt and pull my pyjama pants over my underwear, then waddle out of the room. No one's awake yet, it's only five-thirty in the morning. I haven't really slept. Even after giving some to Oscar Bait over there.

Today's the day.

Sai's going to be here in a few hours.

I got more nervous by the hour these past few days and right now, I seem to have reached the epitome of jumpiness. I tried burying it in work and alcohol and mindless sex, but as soon as I have a second to think, my brain is thrown back into this spiral of confusion and indecisiveness that keeps me awake at night. It's only towards the end of the night, around four or five o'clock, that my eyes are too exhausted to stay open and I sink into sleep.

And when I sleep, I dream of Sasuke.

So I wake up an hour later, just as exhausted, but unable to go back to sleep. Or unwilling to, I'm not sure.

I trudge my way to the bathroom, shoulders slumped, vision still blurry. I close the door behind me, pull my pyjamas down and plop down on the toilet. I sit there, in almost complete darkness, only able to see with the scarce amount of moonlight seeping in through the small window. It's still early March, there won't be sunlight for another hour and a half. I make shadows on the floor with my feet.

Point. Flex. Point.

I wonder, if I hadn't discovered the fantasmagorical world of Saturday morning cartoons, would I still be taking ballet classes? Would I be a ballerina, now? I took classes when I was three, but then my parents decided it was a good idea to get cable and I started throwing fits every Saturday morning because I didn't want to go and miss my shows. So my parents pulled me out of the classes and I haven't looked back.

Sometimes, I catch a movie about dance and I look at the girls' pointing feet and I wish mine did the same. But then again, I know that getting on pointes destroys feet and legs in general, and I kinda like not having bunions and permanent blisters from the ankles down. Feet are pretty essential, if you ask me. Girls shouldn't be bending them and squeezing them into two-sizes-too-small pointe shoes and then standing on their toes. Toes are meant to balance the body, not support its entire weight. Even if the finished product is really beautiful.

My pad's mostly clean, so I replace it with a new one for hygiene and preventive measures – in case my period's not quite done – then I wipe, get to my feet, flush and waddle over to the sink to wash my hands.

I have a quick look at myself in the mirror and in the moonlight, I look sickly pale and unbearably tired. I almost scare myself. I switch on the lights to get a better look, and I look even worse, because now I'm squinting and I can properly see the three-feet-wide bags under my eyes.

I splash water across my face, slap my cheeks a few times to try and get some colour back into them, but to no avail. I pull on my skin with my fingers, stretching it back like a facelift or pulling in down under my eyes to look like a Basset Hound, then let it flop back into place. I slip my fingers through my hair from the front to the back, then bunch it up in my hands and stack it on top of my head. I let go and it flows down around my head, past my chest to my waist. I need a haircut, but I've never had a good enough reason to get one. It has to come from an existential crisis or an emotional need for change.

When I broke up with Idate, I got square bangs. Ino laughed at me until it grew out again.

I look at my fingernails through my mop. The polish, which I named "I Blue Him" – I was inspired by the real name which is something like "Blue-Me-Off" or "Blue-Me-Away" – looks miserable, all chipped and still splattered with paint. I haven't changed it since the last time I hung out with Sai. I thought he'd like it. It's a Rococo colour.

Oh, God.

He's going to be here in a few hours.

**. . .**

I ended up taking a shower. And a bath.

There are so many ways a human being can feel dirty, and I felt them all. Unfortunately, there's only so much dirt soapy water can remove. After that, you have to find some other way to clean your figurative insides. Hence the bath. It cleared my head for a while, but once I was freezing and pruny, gloomy thoughts invaded my brain again.

I've been whoring out with Oscar – this shall be his nickname from now on – this entire week, and before that with Sasuke and before _that_, half the male population of the school. I ain't even exaggerating.

Okay, maybe a little. _Still._

Anyway, that's not the point. Focus, Sakura, _focus._

The truth is going to come out eventually. If he spends the day with us, I can't guarantee the actors will keep their mouths shut. Especially Oscar. And if by any chance they manage not to unintentionally throw me under the bus, my partner in sort-of-crime is very likely to come back for more tonight, since he'll want to secure a spot on my next project – I'm not sure if he didn't get that this is my final one or if he just expects me to become professional right out of college – and he'll do it in front of Sai, which will then throw me under that very same Sakura-is-screwing-around bus and I'll probably die of embarrassment.

I mean, Sai knows about the post-Idate, pre-Sasuke period of my life, but he thinks I've stopped since. And that's my fault, because that's what I told him. I led him to believe that I was done with sleeping around because I was scared of what he might think of me. Guess that's just another proof that Karma's a vindictive twat. I have nearly nineteen years' worth of proof already, but Karma's the gift that keeps on screwing you over.

I had Ino French-braid my hair to the side – while I bawled like a baby – and then fussed for two hours over what I would wear. Of course, as we came here to shoot a movie and as we're mostly shooting outside in the semi-wilderness, _and_ as we didn't plan to go out for mundane activities at any point, I don't have anything remotely non-hobo-like to put on. I have old ripped jeans, which I've already slathered in mud, the sweatpants I used to repaint my room two years ago and a panoply of shapeless band shirts that either belonged to my dad (and that technically still do, but he doesn't really wear them anywhere and he hasn't called me out on it yet) or that I bought three sizes too big in my mid-high school tomboy phase. I have since discovered the joy of buying band shirts in my actual size, but I used to like floating in my clothes.

Even my outer wear screams "camping trip". My coat got splattered with mud just as much as my jeans, my fingerless gloves – don't sneer, they're practical when I'm working with a camera – are all ripped between the index and thumb spaces and my beanie doesn't do anything to disperse the image of hobo I'm harboring.

I don't even have matching socks!

Around eight o'clock, the doorbell rings and I can feel my stomach detach itself from the rest of my digestive system and take a plunge to my heels. I can feel panic creeping up inside me, so I resort to hiding out in the bathroom, with the pretext of helping the actresses with their zombie makeup. I lock the door for good measure.

Then it hits me.

I left Oscar, Ino and Kiba alone with Sai. If there's a most efficient way I could shoot myself in the foot, this is it. My tension-reliever, my blabber-mouth of a best friend and her boyfriend who doesn't know or particularly care that I might get in trouble if someone tells on me, _alone with Sai_. Unless I do something right now, I've pretty much signed my own death sentence.

I burst out of the bathroom, eyes wide and face flushed, not exactly sure of what I should say. The first person I see is Ino, inspecting the gigantic plaster goldfish while Kiba – the second person I see – holds it up vertically. Third, I see Oscar, arms crossed, leaning against a wall, smirking at me – an ugly smirk, nothing like Sasuke's. I feel the need to roll my eyes, disgusted. Why did I even consider sleeping with him?

Then I see Sai.

And he sees me. And his face breaks into his smile, his beautiful smile, and I know I'm lost.

I don't believe what I feel is love. Not yet. But I'm definitely on my way. I haven't felt this nervous – but the good kind of nervous – around someone since the beginning of my relationship with Idate. I look Sai up and down, taking him in, feeling the blood rush to my cheeks. His eyes are steady, unwavering.

"Hello," he says in his silky smooth voice. Oh God, I just qualified someone's voice as "silky smooth".

"Hi..." I say very quietly. I'm not even sure he heard me. But he saw my mouth shift, so he knows. He steps towards me but is stopped mid-tracks by Ino.

"No time for that, I'm afraid," she says, pressing a hand to his chest to make him back up. "We need to leave _now_. You were late."

"Sure." He smiles at her. My God, I love his smile.

**. . .**

The day was generally uneventful. I was able to focus on work long enough to get all the footage we needed, mostly because Ino sent Sai on errands every five seconds. I felt bad for him, but I can't deny that having a runner on set is very useful. We worked more efficiently since we didn't have to stop because one of us had to leave her station to go get something missing. We'd just send Sai on a quest and keep working on other shots that didn't require what we sent him on a quest for.

I haven't had a chance to tell Ino about changing my mind, and she's taken it upon herself to keep Sai away from me. She probably decided on that four days ago, when I seemed to panic at the mere thought of being in the same room as him. She went into Super Best Friend mode and proceeded to do everything in her power to send Sai out of my vicinity like a blazing case of herpes would.

I should probably call her off.

When he's not running around – which means that he's holding pieces of equipment for us – he spends a lot of time looking my way. I've caught him many times, but contrary to what Idate used to do when he started liking me, Sai doesn't avert his eyes when he realises I've spotted him. He just holds my gaze, unmoving, and I can't help but get the feeling that he's trying to figure something out.

When he can, he stands very close to me; so close that he manages to keep me warm in the freezing weather. The beginning of the week was quite warm for early March, but it's gone back to being around four or five degrees Celsius out, and I find myself feeling grateful for Sai's hovering. But only because of the warmth.

Being so _very_ close to him makes me nervous. I shift uncomfortably, I get really self-conscious about what I say and how I work and I trip over my own feet more often than acceptable. We've had to film additional takes of the day's scenes because my pans and travellings are too shaky. At some point, even Kiba stopped a take to tell me to stop breathing so hard because he could hear it in the microphone and the noise was ruining the sound quality.

Thankfully, we didn't finish much later than we planned, but it was mostly thanks to the only one of the actresses who was done for the day slipping and spraining her ankle and Ino sending Sai to drive her home while we finished wrapping up the movie. The two remaining hours went by _swimmingly_.

The rest of the night, not so much.

I dreaded the moment I'd be back at Ino's dad's place, where Sai could very easily corner me and force me into talking to him. Although he doesn't seem like the type to corner people, my experience with pretty much everyone I've met in my life tells me no one is entirely as they seem. But now that I'm actually here, I'm avoiding him like the plague. Avoiding Sasuke at school, amongst thousands of students, was impossible, but I find it oddly easy here, with only six other people sharing the same breathing space.

I keep giving as a pretext an urgent need to go to the bathroom, where I stay for entire half-hours, or pretending to be getting started on the obligatory paperwork we need to hand in before we can start editing. I hide in my room to do so, but I end up just reading and listening for footsteps. Oscar came knocking a little while ago, but I sent him off.

... Fine, I told him he could have me later. Which he won't! But I had to find _some _way to keep him from babbling to Sai, didn't I?. I promised him he could have me if he kept silent about it.

Needless to say, I indulged in alcohol. Not enough to do something stupid, but just enough to not feel so stressed about the situation. While still hiding away in my room. Yeah... The real party to celebrate the end of shooting is tomorrow, so that's when I'll have to watch myself, anyway.

I don't get myself. Well... I never did entirely get myself, but I find I'm being very confusing, today. I've recognised that Sai is the perfect boyfriend, but I'm still jittery about dating him. I've admitted that I actually like him, but I'm avoiding him like I'd avoid Jack Nicholson in a seventies-themed, symmetrically-filmed hotel.

**Knock knock knock.**

"Sakura?"

Oh, no.

"Yeah?"

No, no, no, please!

"Can I speak to you?"

Go away.

"Uh... Sure."

Stupid mouth, stop saying stupid things!

He opens the door and peeks through before setting foot in my cave of misery. I'm not sure if I'm worried or thankful that he closes the door, but at least there's no lock on it, so I'm not _actually _stuck with him. My guess is he doesn't want either to be interrupted or to expose our conversation to everyone's eyes and ears. How very sensible of him.

He sees me, sitting on the floor, against the wall on the far side of the room, partly hidden by the bed, under the window that looks out into the house's backyard. The lights are off and all that makes me visible is the back porch light coming through the window. Sai doesn't question my choices – while it's the only thing I've been doing for the past _two months_ – and merely walks over and sits down next to me against the wall.

We sit there, looking everywhere but at each other, and I'm feeling more stupid and nervous by the second. I'm shaking and sweating and I'm pretty sure I'm dying. If he could only say something, _anything_, because my voice is failing me and nothing comes out and if neither of us breaks this terribly awkward silence, I _will_ collapse.

"Hey."

Hey?

_Hey!?_

What the hell is with that "Hey"!?

Oh my God, Sakura, _relax._ He just said "Hey", there's nothing wrong with that.

"Hi." You cold-hearted bitch. Be nice to him.

"... Are you mad at me for something?"

I freeze. Is that the vibe I've been giving off? Oh, God, it is! I didn't reply to his texts, I didn't try to contact him all week, I avoided him all day and I didn't so much as address a single word to him. I was so caught up in my own panic that I didn't even bother thinking of the repercussions of my actions.

"No, of course not," I answer, finally turning to him. He's still looking ahead.

"Then why are you ignoring me?"

Here we go. I have to tell him. This might be the only chance I get, especially if I decide against it and simply deny ignoring him. Even if it's not what I've been doing at all. But what I'm feeling might really just all be in my head. I've been thinking about it all week, and I've drawn conclusions of my own, but I have no idea if he did the same. Maybe I've just been over thinking everything and assuming things when I should've just waited to see him.

My God, I'm an idiot.

"I'm..." Come on, Sakura! "I'm scared – no, not scared – worried of... what might happen if I..." Stop hesitating, damn you! "If I let myself like you."

"Why is that?" His tone is so soft. Why am I worried again? Oh, right.

"Last time..." I start. "T-the last time I liked someone, he–"

"I'm not like him," he cuts me off. I stay silent, because I think he wants to keep going. "You can't go around thinking that every guy is the same."

He turns his head to me and continues.

"It was only one guy. Even if he was the first one, it's still not representative of the entire male population. You were young, there was almost no way that relationship would've lasted. Please don't take this as me attacking you, but you need someone to tell you this. You have this premade misconception that all men will end up betraying you and it... It can't be healthy.

"And the worst part is that you seem to think it was your fault that your relationship went up in flames. All sixteen-year-old boys want to have sex. But for some of them, it's like their sole purpose in life until they're in their twenties. So, if they don't get it from their girlfriends, they'll be very easily swayed into another, easier girl's arms. That's what happened with your ex."

What is it with people making more sense of my life than me? I live with my issues twenty-four-seven; Sai has known about them for two weeks and he's already figured me all out. He's right. Idate was only one guy. I don't even know why I let it get to me so terribly. In retrospect, it's true that I blamed myself for Idate's cheating. I was just too busy being mad at him to realise it. It feels like Sai is right about everything. Like Idate is. But it's not like when I talked with Idate. I don't feel angry. I just feel tired.

Okay, maybe the tears are coming up a little.

But it's like... Like I'm relieved to know that he gets it more than I do. It makes things simpler. To him, I'm not complicated; I'm not a complete mess. Maybe that's what I need. Sasuke took advantage of my being a mess; Sai makes me feel like I'm not that bad. I might need that in my life, someone who doesn't accept my self-deprecating ways.

Maybe Ino's right about giving Sai a chance.

I look at his face, up and down, every feature. It soothes me. I can trust that face. And I think I can trust the dude it belongs to.

Oh God, I hope I'm not wrong.

"Sai?"

"Yeah?"

"Kiss me."

**. . .**

_**A/N: **__I've been getting really inspired to write, lately, but not for _Wasted_. I have two new projects I'm working on and they're taking up all of the free time I have now that school has started again._

_BUT I'M TRYING._

_I wrote those two chapters separately, but I thought the first one couldn't stand on its own, so I combined them._

_If things seem to happen quickly, it's normal. It's how I intended it._


	13. Waddling in Watercolour

_**A/N: **__I wanted to be done with this by my birthday, but then school and life in general happened so... Anyway, here's another (belated) birthday present from me. I think some people have been waiting for this. You guys have waited long enough._

_Enjoy! _

**. . .**

**Wasted – Chapter 13**

**Waddling in Watercolour**

**. . .**

"You should change your relationship status."

That's Ino, stating the painfully obvious.

"Why?"

And that's me, completely oblivious to the social convention that states that any couple that has been dating for a minimum of two weeks should officially announce it on all the online social networks each party has an account on.

As Sai and I _have_ been dating for two weeks, it seems my lack of Facebook-officialising is now wrong and off-putting for the public at large.

I'm just... worried of what people might say. I mean, most of the girls I'm friends with will congratulate me, like my status at the most, but what about the guys? How many of them will see it as losing me as a booty call? And some girls will call me out on not being a party girl anymore, or maybe not being able to have boyfriend, as I've proved over the past year. And then, Sai will read all of that and might rethink his decision to like me.

Every day since he came to help out at the shoot, we've been together. We walk to school, we spend free periods together, I do my homework in the art room, he does his in the editing room, and then he walks me home. We haven't done anything more than kissing, which is getting a little tedious, but considering that he hasn't been as sexually active as me recently _and_ that we've only known each other for a month, making out is still huge progress in the right direction.

However, my birthday is coming up, so I might request an adult sleepover as my present from him.

Another thing we've been doing, and I'm not entirely sure how I feel about that one, is that we've been smoking up a lot. More than I thought anyone did and nothing I can't handle, but I've decided to sit one out once or twice because it was getting too regular for my taste. He's being very understanding and doesn't push me to do anything, but I've come to like the effect weed has on me. I'm so much happier and my creativity tripled over the past weeks. I'm better at editing than Ino is, so she usually makes the rough cut following our montage list and then lets me do whatever I want with the pace and rhythm. So, with my new habits, I've been making the riskiest montage I could've possibly made.

Our script was weird to start with, but watching my editing sober, I can't help but think that no one will get it. It's visually striking, yes, and if I may say so myself, very well edited, it just... doesn't make sense. And it makes less sense with my high-as-Bob-Marley-kite cuts. I've shown it to Ino, however, and she loves it. Says it's my best work since we've started the program and that "this will definitely get us into Videostock".

Videostock is the sort of gala we get at the end of each semester, nothing fancy, where the best videos (selected by the teachers) are presented to everyone who shows up. Then, prizes are handed for Teachers' Favourite, Public's favourite and Best Overall Production, which congratulates the team that did a stellar job on the paperwork, handed everything in on time and respected all the guidelines. Even better if they overcame imponderables, which are the really sucky, unpredictable problems each team encounters at some point, like absent actors, broken equipment, missing accessories and so on. The gala is usually a jolly time for everyone involved and yes, it's named after Woodstock.

Oh, and the Teachers' Favourite is sent as a submission to one or two minor film festivals. And that's what everyone strives for.

But back to Sai and me.

His reaction to my editing usually involves kissing me and telling me I'm beautiful. That makes me happy, yes – _incredibly_ happy – but I'd appreciate it if he also complimented my ability to do what I intend to do with the rest of my life. Since, you know, if things go right, I'll be talking to him about for the rest of my life. Not that I plan on marrying him just yet, but... Well, he's making me happier than I was even at the beginning of my relationship with Idate.

I can feel myself falling. It's scary, but I have no intention of refraining myself.

**. . .**

It's March 26th. I just left the art room. It's pretty late, but Sai had to stay longer to work on a project due Monday. I asked him to come over on Sunday, because I wanted to celebrate my birthday with him. I'm having dinner with my parents, tomorrow night, but Sunday will be all about him and me. We've been Facebook official for a week; I should be able to get him to do something more than kissing. He seemed eager when I told him, and his kiss goodbye was a lot more intense than necessary. Maybe he's looking forward to it like me.

The rain outside is terrible. Rain in March is worse than snow. It's wet, freezing and doesn't get absorbed into the ground because everything is still frozen, so everything is ten times more slippery. I run through the parking lot and up the street to my apartment. It wasn't raining this morning, so I didn't bother bringing an umbrella. Good job, me.

I need a shower, I need my pyjamas and I need to make my room presentable for Sunday. Or maybe I could go to his place. Unlike me, Sai lives on his own. I have all my flatmates to consider, plus the state of my room is reminiscent of the aftermath of a hurricane. Yeah. I'll call him when I get home and ask if we can go to his apartment instead.

Oh, look, someone's at the door. They must be freezing.

I reach into my bag to fetch my keys and arrive next to the visitor who seems to have spent at least an hour in the rain. There's a suitcase at their feet.

"Are you okay?" I ask. The person turns to me.

Oh, no.

Oh, Jesus, no.

It's Sasuke.

But... Oh, my God, he looks like death!

"Sasuke!?" He leans forward. "What's wrong?"

Oh, he's not leaning. He's falling. To the ground.

"Sasuke!" As if yelling will help. I catch him in my arms and heave him to the door. I struggle with my keys and nearly fall through the door when I finally get it open. I drag him to my room. Apparently, none of my flatmates are in, because no one comes to help me.

Once in my room, I shove him onto my bed and run back out to go fetch his suitcase. It's heavy and wet, so I leave it in the entrance hall. I rush back to Sasuke. He's still lying on my bed, but he's awake and he's shaking like a leaf. I sigh.

"Okay. I'm gonna have to undress you. Don't try anything funny."

Even in his weak state, he's able to send me a look that says "Do I really look like I'm going to try something?" I get started on his snow coat and go hang it in the bathroom. Then, I pull off his shoes and socks, trying to keep the inevitable awkward for last. I get him to sit so I can pull his shirt over his head. There is nothing even remotely sexy about this and I still manage to get worked up. My God, I'm stupid.

I unbuckle his belt and undo his pants. I know his underwear will have to come off as well, but I still try to put it off for as long as I can. The fabric of his pants is sopping wet and incredibly difficult to pull down his legs. I hang them in the bathroom with his coat, then shove his shirt and socks into the dryer. I'm left with his underwear.

They're gray boxer-briefs, and even while he's suffering from hypothermia, I can't help but think that they're incredibly sexy.

No! Bad Sakura!

Okay. Let's think about this. How could I make this not awkward? Well, less awkward? I can't ask him to take them off, it'll feel like a strip tease. _I _can't take them off while he's in my bed, it'll feel like I'm cheating on Sai.

Oh, I know! I'll give him a bath. That's a good reason to take his underwear off and it'll clear him from my bed for half an hour. Then I'll be able to change and he won't die! Yes! Good Sakura. You're being smart, today. I cover him with my blanket and get the hot water running.

Once the bath is full, I get him to walk to the bathroom, still wrapped in my blanket, then I peel it off of him. I warn him about what I'm about to do, then stand behind him so as to not get a full view of what I've seen before but don't intend to see again, hook my thumbs into the elastic band on his hips and slip his underwear down. I push him towards the bath and help him sit into it, without looking any further down than his chest. I leave him there, with the shower curtain pulled in case someone walks in, and go to my room to bring back my blanket and change.

I wanted to take a shower, but Sasuke's sudden return to the land of the visible kind of shot that horse in the face. I tie my wet hair as gracefully as I can and slip into my warmest pyajams. I also put on my... well, I don't know what they're called exactly. They're like slippers but they continue into socks. I called them "slippocks" in a stroke of creative genius. They're really comfortable, though! But I digress.

I walk back to the bathroom and sit on the toilet lid. I dare not pull the curtain back, but I call Sasuke's name to signify my presence and to make sure he's still alive. He grunts back. There's a moment of silence. I break it.

"Why are you here?" I ask. It takes him a while to answer.

"... Needed a bath."

"What!?"

"Don't yell."

"I'm not yelling!" He just sighs. "Sasuke?"

"What?"

"Where have you been?"

"... Around."

"That's not an answer." He sighs again.

"Not tonight."

"Sasuke..."

"Please."

His tone is so strained and tired, I can't bring myself to insist. It's like the weight of the entire world is on his shoulders and knowing about his upbringing like I do, it's not something he's used to. It's like he's really saying "Kill me now". I sit on the toilet lid in silence, looking at my feet. I know there's nothing I can say that's going to dissipate the heavy atmosphere and it makes me feel powerless. He doesn't say anything else either and we stay like that for half an hour, until he tells he's cold. I go fetch him a towel and his dry shirt and underwear. I tell him to come back to my room when he's done and leave him to change.

Back in my bedroom, I pick up some dirty clothes and pile up dirty dishes I haven't brought back to the kitchen yet. I make sure there's nothing on the bed that could prick, poke, cut or otherwise hurt him during the night, then I create a barrier in the center of the mattress with my mountain of pillows. Sasuke walks in as I plop down on my side of the bed with my laptop. He eyes the Great Wall of Made-In-China Pillows with a raised eyebrow but otherwise doesn't say anything and slips under the covers.

I eventually turn off my laptop, switch off the lights and lie down under the covers next to the pillow fortress. And I can't sleep. I don't like having Sasuke in my bed, but I couldn't just make him sleep on the floor, could I? I can feel the mattress shake and I know that he's still cold. The truth is, I am too, but I don't really feel like getting up to take a shower.

"Sakura?" His voice makes me jump.

"Yeah?"

"I'm cold."

He sounds like a little boy calling out to his mom. I can feel my heart melt, but I try not to pay any attention to it. If anything, this is a trick to get me to have sex with him. He'll say something like "Wanna warm me up?" and make a suggestive face and it'll be awkward and ugh. So, I don't answer.

Argh, but he sounds so pitiful!

And, really, there wouldn't be any harm in me warming him up, as long as nothing of a sexual nature is involved. Right? It's not cheating. I'm... helping a friend in need. There. That's what Sasuke wanted us to be. Friends. He's getting what he wanted.

"Alright, come here."

I bring down my fortress and shove the pillows aside. Sasuke trembles his way across the mattress and curls up around me, surrounding me with his arms.. I make sure the blanket covers him from ear to toes and wrap an arm around his midriff. I even go as far as entwining one of my legs with his. His feet and fingers are cold as ice and his trembling makes my own body shake. I run a hand up and down his back to soothe him. My mom told me once that when you're cold, what makes you shake is the contraction of your muscles caused by the cold. The best way to get warmer is to calm down. He tightens his hold on me and I feel his deep exhalations against my hair.

Soon enough, I start feeling sleepy. I can tell Sasuke's already asleep because he's stopped shaking and his breathing has slowed down. I'm only lazily grazing his back with my fingers, now, and I can't help but think that this position feels really natural. I feel so comfortable, so safe. I close my eyes and let myself be rocked to sleep by his breathing.

**. . .**

Sasuke's hands. Around me, on me, holding me.

Warm. Soothing. Safe.

Oh, that's a first. His lips. On my forehead, my cheeks, my neck. I try to get him to kiss me, but then I remember I don't have a physical representation and it would be silly for him to kiss a big pile of nothing.

His hands are getting adventurous. So are his lips. Going down, down, down.

Oh God!

**. . .**

I sling my bag over my shoulder. I got up earlier than usual, this morning. After waking up from my dream, I felt dirty and wrong, sleeping next to Sasuke – well... more like in his arms, but for my sanity's sake, let's pretend that wasn't where I was. I jumped out of bed and decided to start my day early to avoid talking to him when he wakes up. It's Saturday and I don't really have anything to do besides going home to have my birthday dinner with my parents.

In the hall, I meet Temari who's coming back from a run (because she runs, apparently). She nods her head at me as she pulls a leg up to untie her shoe. I walk up to her and think of only one thing to say.

"There's a guy sleeping in my room." She sends me a weird look.

"Like, a hobo?"

"Oh, no, don't worry, I know him."

"You know a hobo?"

"What? No! He's not..." My God, I've lost all powers of speech. "Just don't freak out if a man comes out of my room."

"Oh." She doesn't seem reassured at all. "Okay. Thanks."

I walk out as quickly as I can. You know, for flatmates who've been living under the same roof and attending the same classes, Temari and I are really awkward around each other. We don't really talk, which is a shame because I hear she's really creative when she needs to come up with scenarios. And she gets how to properly write scripts, which is a plus. Ino and I could've really used her help, because our asswipe of a script barely got the "okay" from the Video Creation teacher, which we need to get before we can start on the rest of the superfun paperwork.

I get to school and try to figure what I can do with my day until it's time to take the bus to my parents' place. I could go work on the movie, but the editing room has probably already been reserved. I could get started on an English essay I know I'll have to write towards the end of the semester (it's written in the course plan). I could... walk around and try to find secret passageways. I could go get a workout in, but that's not something I usually do, due to my complete lack of physical aptitude, and anyway, I don't have my gym clothes with me.

I could go read comics in the library, or even better yet, unofficial biographies of my favourite cinema-related people. I could ask if there's a camera in and take it out to film my day. I've been thinking about starting a vlog. But then again, I don't think my life's that interesting. Maybe one day, when something substantial actually happens to me.

"Sakura!"

I whip my head around, recognizing Sai's voice. He's approaching me with his smile (and no shirt), he pants full of paint. I smile back.

"What are you doing here?" I ask.

"I still have work to do. This piece is killing me," he answers, arriving to where I am and taking my hands in his. "How are you?"

Oh, I'm fine, you know, besides the fact that my ex-fuck-buddy that I haven't seen in over a month stayed at my place last night and is currently sleeping in my bed. Did I mention that he went MIA over a month ago and failed to contact me for whatever reason, then reappeared out of fucking nowhere, nearly frozen to death and completely unwilling to tell me where he's been all this time. Ah, but wait, I can't tell you that because then I'd have to explain the existence of a fuck-buddy of mine and the reason why his disappearance and reappearance upsets me so much, which is not something I understand myself, so better luck next time.

"I'm good, I'm good," I simply answer.

"Good," he says, then leans down and gives me a kiss. I wish it could've lasted longer than it did, because kissing him feels incredible, but what he gave me was good. It brings a giddy smile to my face. Even the faint smell of weed doesn't dampen my giddiness. "Are you free, right now?" He asks, still holding my hands.

"Until four, I am." Hell yeah, I get to spend the day with my-

"Awesome. Come on."

... boyfriend.

Excuse me while I squeal.

**. . .**

I manage to make it back to my apartment on time, still coming down. The fumes are slowly dissipating from my brain, but I know that I'll have to make sure I'm in full control of my actions before I leave for my parents' house. I stumble into the wall, kind of giggly, and stop dead in my tracks when I see who's sitting at my kitchen table.

Oh. Right.

Sasuke's still here.

I frown at him and walk straight to my room, then slam the door behind me. I have to let him know that I'm displeased with his presence here. I strip down to my underwear and plop down on my bed. I've discovered that walking around in my underwear, with my hair brush against my back all the way down to my waist is a truly enjoyable thing to do when I'm baked. I slump forward, for the ultimate hair-against-back experience and barely register Sasuke walking in.

I groan when he sits down next to me and grips my head to make me look at him. He scrutinizes my eyeballs and I just _know _what's happening in his head. He presses two fingers to my throat, where my pulse in palpable and it's clear that he's figured it out. His serious expression is hilarious, so I laugh. But not for long. After the first three seconds, it's not funny anymore.

"Right. You're going to bed," he says, pushing me down towards the mattress. I try to shove him off me, in vain.

"No, I'm going to see my parents," I manage to articulate.

"Not like that, you're not," he says in the most annoying, parent-like tone _ever._

"Let me go!" I struggle in his arms. "You're in my house, young man, you do as I say!" Oh God, I sound so _old_. Sasuke snorts.

"Like hell I am. Come on." He pulls me to my feet. "I've changed my mind."

He has to carry me to the bathroom – over his shoulder, which is really uncomfortable – and undress me himself to get me in the shower. A cold one, I might add. I stand there screaming for a few seconds until he steps in with me, completely naked as well.

"What the fuck are you doing!?" I yell.

"Relax. I'm just helping." He pushes me backwards under the stream. "Besides, it's too cold."

For the most part, he hands me things, like my soap bottle or a face cloth, but eventually, he's the one to lather my hair with shampoo, which he's done before. My back faces him and I fix the wall pointedly, getting warmer by the second, despite the cold water. I know I shouldn't be reacting to him, but despite the resentment I feel towards him, I can't deny that he's freakin' sexy. Like yesterday, I don't look anywhere below his chest, but in my woozy state – although I'm definitely clearing up – it gets really difficult not to give in and look down.

I feel a little sad. Mostly for him, because he doesn't know about Sai yet. He probably thinks I'll take him back in (in more ways than one) and I'm not really sure how to break the news of my spanking new relationship to him in a delicate way. And the way his hands move against my scalp makes me want to throw it all away and jump his bones. For old times' sake, of course.

But I can't.

"I have a boyfriend," I say, hearing the resignation in my own voice. There's silence behind me for a while, but his hands don't stop moving. I let him keep going, waiting for an answer, starting to shiver under the cold water.

"So you do," he finally answers.

What!? What kind of reaction is that? He's naked in a shower with me, naked as well, lathering shampoo in my hair, and he's not even a little bit peeved that I'm unavailable? I'm offended.

"That's it?" I ask.

"What's it?" Oh, right, fake being oblivious. I totally believe it.

"You're not jealous?"

"No, of course not."

"Why not?"

"Why would I be?"

"Well-..."

"Do you want me to be?"

"No, I-" I sigh and frown. "Nevermind."

"Rinse," he says.

I turn around, my arms covering my chest, and tilt my head back under the stream to rinse off the shampoo. I know it's silly to hide myself, considering I've gone way beyond that step with Sasuke, but I don't want him to think I'm trying to tempt him. Eventually, though, I do need to use my hands to get all the soap out, but he doesn't say anything. I keep my eyes closed to stop myself from checking if he's looking at me. When I'm done, I turn around again and he starts rubbing conditioner into my hair.

"There's no need for me to be jealous," he says after a while. I stay quiet, letting him massage my scalp again. I only answer when I'm back to rinsing.

"Why?" I ask.

"Because I know you'll come back to me," he says, and I catch the smug smirk on his face.

"You shouldn't presume of such things," I say, glaring.

"I'm not presuming. It's a fact." I want to smack that smirk off of his face. "Eventually, you're going to have sex with him and realise that no matter how good in bed he is, I'm better. And when that happens, you'll come back running." He grabs my hips and pulls me flush against him. I let out a yelp.

"What are you doing!?" I sound offended, but as soon as my pelvis came in contact with his, all my senses ignited. His have ignited a while ago, obviously, because I can feel him already hard against my lower abdomen. I shove him away. "Don't do that again," I say, hoping I sound authoritarian, but I know that my voice is shaking.

Instead, I stumble out of the shower, wrap myself in a towel and stomp back to my room. My head is ten times clearer than it was before my shower and I start getting dressed to go to my parents' house. I pitifully braid my wet hair and slip into semi-fancy clothes. Sasuke only walks in once I'm completely dressed, either by good timing or by being considerate, and sits on my bed. I look at him as I pin earrings on and give a sigh.

"Sasuke, why are you here?" I ask, exasperated and dying to know.

"Well, I just had a shower, so-"

"I mean here in my apartment. Don't you have a mansion to go home to?"

He doesn't reply. In fact, he looks like he's ignoring me. I roll my eyes and step into my snow boots. There's no more snow outside, but a visit at my parents' doesn't really necessitate dressy shoes. I'll be walking around in my socks anyway. I put on my coat and pick up my beanie. I make sure my I.D., bus card and debit card are in my pants' pocket and walk to the doorframe of my room.

"If you're still here when I get back, you'll have to tell me what's up with you. If I'm to let you stay, I should at least no why." He doesn't move or say anything. I sigh again. "Whatever. I'm going," I say, stomping out.

**. . .**

When I get back home, Sasuke is indeed still in my apartment. He's sleeping on my bed, wrapped up in my covers; he looks absolutely adorable. I set my bag of presents on the ground, take off my coat and boots and get to changing into my pyjamas.

The dinner at my parents' house was pleasant. I got great presents, the food was delicious and I hadn't seen my parents in forever, so it felt good to talk to them for a while. We did what we usually do: eat, talk, joke about the silly things I did as a kid, put on music and sing and dance terribly. My parents have great taste in music, and they've passed it on to me, but none of us can hold a note to save our lives. It's ridiculous. And then we laugh at ourselves and have a jolly time.

I dreaded the time to go back, but the prospect of seeing Sai tomorrow night motivated me to embark on the bus ride back to my apartment. And now, here I am. I slip into bed next to Sasuke. Thankfully, he's not cold tonight, so I don't need to hold onto him. However, as soon as I'm in a comfortable position, I hear his voice.

"I had a fight with my father," he says, sounding completely awake. I don't know what to answer, so I let him continue. "Long story short, he wants me to work in the police force like him and I don't."

"Is that what I heard on the phone?"

"When?"

"The last time we spoke before you vanished from the surface of the earth."

"Oh... Yeah," he sighs. "And apparently, to him, that's a good reason to kick me out."

"He kicked you out!?"

"Yeah. Disowned me, too."

"Sasuke..."

"What?"

"There's something you're not telling me." He sighs again and hesitates before replying.

"I... I told him I didn't want to study in Administration anymore, either."

"Aaaand?"

"And... I said one or two colourful things about him and the family."

"Oh, Sasuke!"

"He said 'Fine! If you hate this family so much, I don't see why you should stay in it.' The next day, all my credit cards were blocked and my dad had my car towed to a hangar somewhere."

"And where have you been staying up until now?"

"The first few weeks, at Naruto's. I'm surprised he didn't tell you."

"I didn't see him much."

"After that, I did a week at Nara's. And this week, I've been sleeping in the bus station. Eventually, I got busted by the night guard, so I had to leave... And now, here I am."

I stay silent for a while. The story sounds ridiculous, but at the same time, he does look tired and hungry and permanently sick. And I didn't even feed him! Oh God, I'm a terrible person. I roll over to face him, but his back is still turned to me. I scoot over to him and sling an arm around his waist.

"Can I stay here?" He asks, sounding more miserable and lonely than ever. "For a little while. I'll find a way to pay rent." I give him a slight squeeze.

"Yeah," I say. "But we're gonna have to get you your own mattress."

**. . .**

"Welcome," Sai says, leading me through his front door.

I'm much more excited about being here than I thought I would be. Mostly because I'm anticipating what's coming, but also because it's the first time I'm in my boyfriend's place of residence without also being in the presence of his parents. Even if nothing below the waist happens, we can still be cute and cuddly and not be snickered at. Idate's parents were unbearable. If we made the mistake of even just glancing at each other during dinner, someone inevitably exclaimed: "Aaaw, look at the two lovebirds! Aren't they just adorable together?" Not that I minded being called out on the cuteness of my couple, especially at that time in history when I didn't know or even suspect that I was being cheated on, but I don't fare well in the spotlight and it made me avoid eye contact with him for hours on end, which really gets uncomfortable after a while.

Here, Sai and I have peace and quiet. No one to comment, no one to sigh wistfully, no one to let out an immature snicker. I smile at him and he smiles right back, then leans down and kisses me and it feels like magic. Butterflies, shooting stars, fireworks. I slide my arms around his neck and pull him closer to me. He heaves me up and when my feet leave the ground, I squeal against his lips. He unbuttons my coat and pulls it off my shoulders, then lets it flop to the floor and gets started on his own coat. I pull away from his mouth and bend down to take off my snow boots.

Oh, look, my hands are shaking. Sai squats to untie his own boots and I notice that his hands are shaking too. Apparently, he's just as nervous as I am. I know he said he didn't want to have sex with me until we were in love and I know that I might be rushing into this a little, but he's been so great to me that I can't make him wait any longer. I know he loves me and even if it's wrong of me to make him believe that I love him too just to get some, I can tell that it won't take me long to get to his level of affection. Who knows? Maybe having sex with him is the last step to take.

He takes my hands in his, smiles his lovely smile again and pulls me to his room. I can't look away from his eyes. So calm, so soft, so reassuring. He seems to want to be in control and I let him. Everything is slow, deliberate, almost calculated. He kisses me softly at first, then as his hands travel up my shirt – whoa, already? – he grows more passionate.

He brings me over to his bed, where we lie down facing each other, and we pick up from where we left off. His hands roam my body, and besides some clumsy groping – probably caused by nervousness – I find myself feeling warmer by the second.

I try to take over, make it more intense, but he pulls away from my mouth and says "No. Tonight, we go slow." His words make my heart melt until I get a flash of Sasuke, that first (well, technically second) night back in January, when he kept me from going down on him by pulling me up and simply shaking his head.

Damnit.

I try shooing away the mental image by attacking Sai's mouth and rubbing myself against him, but he pulls away again and says "Sakura. Slow." And suddenly, I realise that he's going too slow. _Way_ too slow and it's getting awkward. So I push him down on the mattress and climb on top of him. I keep seeing Sasuke in my head and I need to get him out. I grind my pelvis against Sai's once, trying to get a reaction from him. I yank my shirt off, take his hands, slap them in place on my hips and grind again. He was already hard when I sat on top of him, but it was nothing impressive and I notice no change from my actions.

I grip his shirt and pull him up so he can kiss me. He seems to get a little more responsive, so I keep going in that direction. I pull his shirt over his head, give his another searing kiss and shove him back down on the mattress. I reach behind my back to unclasp my bra, but he catches my arm.

"Sakura," he says more firmly.

And now, I feel stupid. This is our first time together. It's supposed to be special. He probably just wants to make it really romantic and here I am, going about it like it's a one night stand. I'm a terrible girlfriend. I'm just about to climb off of him when he raises a hand to my face and strokes my cheek.

"Don't try so hard," he says. "I just want you to enjoy this."

Then he smiles and I melt again. He pulls my head down to his and kisses me softly. I don't think I mind him being slow anymore. A bit awkwardly but still effectively, he manages to flip us over and take back control. He holds my head, kisses every inch of my face and my neck. His breath is warm and soothing against my skin. He makes me forget where we are and lose the notion of time.

Clothes are removed, skin is grazed, lips are pressed against lips and hands are running free. Sai is still a bit too slow, but I reckon it's because I'm so used to getting it rough and torrid from Sasuke (and forceful and hurried from every other guy I've slept with) that I mind. But I don't let it get to me. It can only get better. And if he wants, I could teach him to do better next time.

Whoa.

_Whoa!_

Why is he already going in? I'm nowhere near ready to take–

Oh.

Oh, God.

Okay, Sakura, stay calm. Just go with it.

It's fine, it's okay.

Oh my God, it is _not_ okay!

How can it be so small? How could I have not noticed?

He's trying to compensate with his hands, and it's kind of working, but I know I'll have to fake it. And I'm not sure how well I can fake it. Other guys were either too drunk to care or Sasuke, and Sasuke, well...

Is... Is he...?

Is he _squeaking?_

OH MY GOD, HE IS.

I try to make my moans convincing, but I've completely lost the feeling. Without pleasure, I find myself focussing on things I never noticed before about sex. Copulating bodies get wet and gross and the sound of bare skin slapping bare skin is kind of weirdly repulsive in the dead silence of the apartment that's otherwise only broken by the creaking of the bed. Yeah, because he has a creaky bed.

It's now too warm. Sai's squeaking is just annoying and the inevitable bouncing of my breasts from Sai's movements is getting uncomfortable. Our position feels awkward and I find myself looking forward to a shower. His eyes are closed and he seems to be having the time of his life, completely oblivious to my lack of reciprocation, and I turn my head to find another focal point. My eyes fall on the condom wrapper, ripped open and lying next to my head.

It's kind of sad that this little square of plastic is the only good thing about this anymore. Sai's thrusts become erratic, he lets out this great, big, high-pitched noise and then I guess it's over. He slumps down onto me, panting, and I pretend to be extenuated as well. He raises his head and smiles tiredly at me. His smile is still as lovely as before, which is a relief, but now I don't have the heart to tell him how terrible that was. So I just smile back and hope my disappointment doesn't show on my face.

Actually, disappointment wouldn't be so bad compared to the blood-curling dread that's slowly overtaking me. There's only one thought in my brain and it's that Sasuke was right. He didn't predict this exactly, but there's no way I can deny that he's better in bed than Sai.

He can't know. Neither of them can know. And I can't let this get to my head. So Sai sucks in bed. So what? Sasuke sucks at relationships and Sai's a champion in that department. A good relationship is way more important than good sex. Right? A-and it's not like it's a deal-breaker. I can teach Sai. Train him to become better. And then, Sasuke won't have anything on him. Yeah. That's what I'll do. And I can't give in to Sasuke.

Sasuke, who's living in my room, sleeping in my bed and sharing a common history of beneficial friendship with me.

Oh God.

Oh, sweet Jesus, have mercy upon my soul.

Okay. No. Things are okay. Things are great. And if they're not, they're going to be. Right?

"I love you."

I have to leave.

**. . .**

The cold wind bites the skin of my cheeks and seeps through my snow coat despite it being made for this kind of weather. My boots weight me down as heavily as two dead bodies and I can feel the dark circles under my eyes getting deeper by the second. My eyelashes are heavy with teardrops frozen solid by the wind and I'm too cold and tired to keep crying. I waited until Sai fell asleep, which took about as long as it took him to come – okay, that was mean – and ran out, not even bothering to think of a bullshit excuse to tell him tomorrow.

Overall, I didn't even stay an entire hour at his place.

But that's not what gets me the most. It's that I'll have to confront Sasuke and explain why I'm back so soon. And he'll know. I know he'll know. It'll be too obvious. You don't rush back from your boyfriend's place in the middle of a snowstorm at ten-thirty at night because you've just had the greatest sex in the world. Just for that, I should've stayed.

In retrospect, it was kind of stupid of me to leave, but... I got spooked. Yes, like Tom Cruise in _Cocktail_. Sai telling me that he loves me scared me, because I know that I'm not there yet, especially after tonight, and I really don't want to play him. Even though that's kind of what I did. I didn't explicitly make him believe that I'm in love with him, but it was implied and I did it on purpose. I did it to get some and, okay, maybe to prove Sasuke wrong, too.

Boy, did that backfire.

Really, I shouldn't have left. It looks (and feels) like I'm running right back into Sasuke's arms, like I'm two-timing, and I don't think I could ever live with myself if that were true. If Sai were to find out, he'd hate me. Any explanation I'd try to give him would be futile and I know for a fact that Sasuke's not going to help. He'd rather watch my love life go up in flames so I'll need him again. He'd like that too much.

But I've passed the halfway point back to my place, and I know it's too late to go back to Sai. In any case, he's sleeping, now, so even if I were to go back now, it wouldn't be some big reunion scene like in TV dramas where the girl comes back to the guy's place, apologizes for getting spooked and says that she's ready to make it work.

(Except that usually, the genders are flipped, but I digress.)

Besides, that's _my_ apartment Sasuke's staying in; if he gets on my nerves, I can just kick him out. Really, he was the one who put a stop to whatever we were doing, two months ago, so he has no right to demand anything from me. I don't owe him any favours and even if I did, he doesn't deserve anything from me, right now. Despite the fact that he's now homeless.

And poor.

And disavowed.

And he's been kicked out of Naruto's and another of his friends' place, so I'm basically the only thing he has left.

Oh God, I can't kick him out.

I stumble my way to my front door, pull out my key and try to get it in the keyhole before I die of hypothermia. Apparently, nobody's home again because the carport light isn't on, and it's impeding the visibility around the door. I finally get the key in and turn the lock, grateful to feel the warmth of the entrance hall wash over me when I swing the door open.

I shrug out of my coat and toe my boots off, then walk to my room. Sasuke's there, of course, sleeping on my bed very close to the edge, and all the lights are off except the lamp on my bedside table. The book I'm reading lies open, pages down, on the floor and I can only assume that he's been reading it and dropped it when he fell asleep. I tiptoe over to him, careful not to make any sound.

I pick up the book, set it on my bedside table and sit on the floor, at eye level with Sasuke. There's this peculiar thing about him. It's only when you see him sleeping that you realise how tense his face is when he's awake. Like it pains him to even have to face reality. He's not always frowning – although, I'll be honest, he is a hefty majority of the time – but he's always thinking, analysing, doubting. He has an innate talent for skepticism and it shows. But when he's sleeping, he looks like you could make him believe anything. Like he'd be naive and wide-eyed, almost. It's very endearing. I like him when he's sleeping.

Mostly because he's not speaking, but that's not the point.

I go to the kitchen. After a quick inspection, I realise that he hasn't eaten anything. There are no new dishes on the counter or in the sink and the scarce amount of food in the fridge and in the pantry seems untouched. I pull a frozen pizza out of the freezer and turn on the oven, then walk back into my room and sit back down in front of Sasuke. I brush a strand of hair out of his face.

"I'm not kicking you out," I whisper to him. I know he can't really hear me, but I still felt like saying it. Maybe because I know that if I said it while he was awake, he would've snickered and come up with a clever retort to make me feel silly and cheesy and unbelievably dumb for saying it. Like this, he can't ruin it.

I need a shower. Now that I'm back home, I feel dirty. I'm not actually cheating, but it sort of feels like it. Like leaving his place to come back to mine equals going back to sleeping around. Figuratively and literally, because back then, I'd rarely stay over at guys' places. Just like I did tonight; wait until they're asleep and fly.

The warm water barely does anything to make me feel better, except maybe take away the shivers I still have from walking outside for so long, but at least I smell good and I've washed off Sai's sweat, my tears and my makeup. My hair sticks to the skin of my back all the way down to my coccyx and it's the first time in a while that I realise how long it is. I haven't cut it since Idate and I first started out, and even then, it wasn't that short. However, he said he wanted to see me with long hair and I was too smitten to not do as he asked. I forgot about it over time.

Not that it bothers me, but... Maybe it'd be an appropriate way of letting go. As opposed to sleeping with every guy that looks my way. It'd be more symbolic than anything else, but maybe it would make things better. Shed the old skin, let go of the heartbreak and the thirst for revenge, all the guys I've slept with and almost slept with...

... Sasuke, too...

... Maybe not yet.

Besides, long hair looks good on me.

I turn the water off and step out of the tub. I dry myself quickly, slip my pyjamas on and braid my hair down my back. I walk back to my room, where Sasuke's still sleeping, but has turned around to face away from the edge of the bed.

I pull my book from the bedside table, climb into bed to sit against the wall and pick up from where I left off. I have to read it for my English class, but students were allowed to choose, so I decided to please myself and read _A Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy_ because it's one of my dad's favourite books. I don't usually make choices based upon my parents' tastes – if I did, my love life wouldn't be the mess it currently is – but my dad has a track record of amazing pop-culture choices, so I figured I could trust him on this.

I'm not disappointed. _Hitchhiker's Guide_ is hands down the funniest book I've ever read and I've heard that the movie adaptation isn't so bad either. Science fiction in the sixties and seventies was so incredibly different from nowadays' science fiction. It was so much more uplifting, happy and eager for the future. There were crazy inventions, wonders created, new worlds discovered and everything seemed to become more beautiful with time. These days, science fiction deals with post-apocalyptic accommodations, tyranny, mind control and/or zombies.

The future, as seen from the sixties and seventies' point of view was so bright and inviting. One day, I'll make a movie like that.

"Mhey."

I look up from my book. Sasuke's awake, his eyes still squinty and tired but entirely focussed on my face. He doesn't smile or frown or glare, and his face still retains that peaceful expression he bears when he sleeps. He raises a hand to rub his eyes and gives a great sigh.

"What time is it?" He asks in a sluggish tone.

"Eleven," I answer, awaiting the mockery.

"In the morning?" He raises his head, frowning in confusion at the window where, obviously, the sky is still dark.

"No. Eleven at night." Come on, just say it. The sooner you do, the sooner I'll start recovering.

"Of what day?" He rubs his eyes again.

"Oh my God, _really?_"

"Yeah."

"March twenty-eighth. Do you need the year, too?"

"No, I'm good." There's a silence, and by the look on his face, I know he's trying to work things out. I go back to my book to pretend I'm not waiting for him to figure it out, but I know it's not going to take him long.

"You left two hours ago." Aaaand there we go.

"I did." I have to keep my voice in check.

"But you said–"

"Yeah."

"And you were so excited, too."

"I know."

"And smug." I groan. Just get to the punchline, will you? "Did you fight?"

Did we... What!? That's not what he's supposed to ask. He's supposed to mock me, to mock Sai, to be a real prick about it and brag about his sexual prowess and how I can't resist him.

"N-no! We didn't," I squeak out.

"Then, what's wrong?"

I don't know what to say. It's like he's not the same person as before. It's like he _cares_. I mean, not that he didn't care before, but he wouldn't have reacted like this. Even his tone is different. Most of the time, he just sounded bored or smug. Now he just sounds genuinely concerned about my well-being. And I'm not really used to that, coming from him. I guess my confusion is showing on my face, because he explains his question.

"Your eyes are all red and puffy." I raise a hand to my face by reflex. "You've been crying."

"Since when are _you_ observant?" Okay, too snappy, Sakura. He glares at me but otherwise ignores my question and I take it he's waiting for me to answer. "I..." I sigh. "Things didn't... go as planned." Yeah. Let's leave it at that. It vague and doesn't entail to anything. It doesn't specify what went down (and failed to get back up again) and there's no way Sasuke can guess–

"Was it that bad?"

...

HOW?

"Was what bad?" The key is to pretend I don't know what he's talking about. Who knows? Maybe he means something else.

"The sex." Of course he doesn't.

"What makes you think we had sex?" Hm, maybe not the best repartee I've ever come up with, but let's hope it works.

"Is that why you left? Because he wouldn't screw you?"

"Must you make it sound so vulgar?"

"We've done worse." I WILL SCRATCH HIS EYES OUT.

"What makes you think Sai and I didn't do even worse than that?" As soon as the words leave my mouth, I know I just shot myself in the foot.

"You said you didn't have sex." I stay silent. I don't know what I could possibly say to stay afloat, now. "So, you did, then."

I'm too embarrassed to say anything, so I just nod. I don't even make eye contact with him; I can just feel the smirk creeping up onto his face. He looks at me for a while, maybe waiting for me to say something. Or maybe just using the silence to make me feel more uncomfortable by the second.

"And it was terrible," he finally says. This time, I don't even nod. My cheeks are burning and I feel tears pooling in my eyes, but I think it's more out of humiliation than actual sadness. That's all the answer he needs, really, and he chuckles. "Look at that, I was right."

Oh my God, I hate him. He was never actually concerned about me; I bet he just wanted to get a confession about the sex out of me, just to make himself have more confidence in his own abilities. Actually, you know what? It's _his_ fault. Hadn't he pursued me for casualness, I would've never known such good sex and I wouldn't have reacted so badly to Sai's... attempt. I also wouldn't be so frustrated right now and he wouldn't be laughing at me while squatting in my living space. He's taking complete advantage of the meaningless relationship we had and that pisses me off!

He turned away from me, so I hurl my book at his head and throw myself under the covers with a huff, my back to him. He chuckles again and slips under the covers too, I'm guessing still facing away from me. He turns off my bedside lamp and then, there's a silence. A really long, really heavy silence, and the darkness doesn't really help. That's when the tears come down again.

I left my boyfriend right after some really terrible sex just to get here, lying next to my ex-fuck-buddy, feeling like a complete whore and wishing I could somehow subtly take care of my still pending orgasm _without_ his help. If Sai finds out, he might never want to see my face again, which means I'll have Sasuke sticking to my every move until I give in to him again and _then_ I'll be really fucked.

"Hey, Sakura?"

"_What!?_" Leave me alone, I'm miserable.

"Happy birthday."

And now I'm wailing. I know he can hear me – as well as the entire neighbourhood – and that just makes me cry even harder. My pillow quickly gets soaked through and I'm soon in desperate need of tissues. I feel Sasuke shift behind me and then his arm snakes around my waist. I'm about to push him away and yell when he speaks again.

"This is friendly."

"Pff." It comes out really blubbery through my tears.

"Without benefits," he adds. " Just sleep."

There's another silence. Then...

"Sasuke?"

"Yeah?"

"You're a dick." He chuckles. I wait a little before saying something else. "But thank you."

**. . .**

_**A/N: **__Yep. He's back. And he's not going anywhere, anymore._

_Every night I spend writing, I eventually look at the clock to realise it's 22:42. Goddamn, I chose that title well._


	14. Wrong

_**A/N: **__I CAN FEEL THE LOOOOOVE (TONIGHT). Thank you for all your awesome feedback. Some of you thought the story was over. OF COURSE NOT._

_Also, no, I did not forget about the pizza. A lot of you didn't either, but you read something that wasn't there. I never actually made Sakura put the pizza in._

**. . .**

**Wasted – Chapter 14**

**Wrong**

**. . .**

I'm in trouble.

Like, shit-up-to-my-ears, almost-homeless, I-might-even-maybe-get-arrested trouble.

It's hilarious.

See, Temari didn't find it very entertaining to be woken up at eleven-thirty on a Sunday night by our smoke detector, who I might add overreacted to the _miniature_ smoke cloud that was barely seeping from our oven. Or, as she put it, the volcanic ash cloud that erupted from the oven and nearly choked us all to death. But I think she's being a bit dramatic.

Even more so when she falsely accused Sasuke. I told her I was the one who turned on the oven and forgot about it, to which she responded that it was still Sasuke's fault because she apparently didn't get the memo that I'm no longer having sex with him and thus, he's no longer a distraction for me. She wouldn't have any of it, however, and demanded he be kicked out within the next twenty-four hours.

I didn't bother explaining his tragic story to her, because I suspected she would only see it as trying to make him look pitiful. She added that if it happened again or if he came back, she would have to tell our landlord. The "have to" indicated that she didn't really want to, which reassured me a little because it probably meant I'd have a margin of misconduct before she actually turned her threats into punishment, but our landlord is a really strict man who doesn't like fires and _really _doesn't like freeloaders. Sunday night, after I pleaded guilty, he said this would be the only time he'd let me off the hook for something like that. I had to pretend Sasuke was my boyfriend visiting, which amused my freeloader way too much and confused Temari even more, and the landlord forbid overnight visitors from today onwards.

So, I kicked Sasuke out.

Then I snuck him back in through my window after the landlord and the firemen were gone.

There is no way I'm letting him live on the street. He's already stayed at Naruto's, I'm pretty sure neither Ino nor Hinata can take him in and I couldn't possibly ask Sai – or trust Sasuke around him twenty-four-seven. Temari always follows this strict schedule and our other two roommates are never here, so I don't think letting him live here will be that difficult. Hopefully, he'll make amends with his parents soon; at worst, we only have a month and a half of school left. I'll just have to be careful with the amount of food he takes and the times he does his laundry. There. Easy as me.

On another subject, I didn't go to the audiovisual department quickly enough and now, all the editing rooms are booked for the next month. Ino and I planned to be done with editing by mid-April so we could focus on our finals while everyone else struggled to put their projects together and this is too big a set-back. Unless someone ends up not needing as much time in editing and letting us use his room, we have no way of getting it done in the next two weeks. Ino is properly freaking out and it's getting funnier every time I see her.

Actually, everything seems funnier, now. Because, as my last piece of news, I'm very pleased to announce that I've figured out how to not mind Sai's... shortcomings. It took a few days, but it fell on me like a miracle llama driving a car off a cliff. I was doing homework in the art class, earlier today, and Gaara handed me a blunt, saying I could finish it because he and Matsuri would be gone a while. I snuffed it out and kept it for after I was done with my homework, but later, when they came back, both seemed very pleased with themselves. When I asked her, Matsuri told me about the positive effects of weed on sex.

So, when I went home with Sai, the joint secure in my pocket, I decided to try it out. We both drew a few swigs from it in his bathroom before taking a shower together and after a few minutes of waiting for the effects to kick in, I immediately regretted not knowing about it sooner. It was like every touch, every graze of his fingers against my skin, every kiss was amplified. I was warm and I still had goosebumps.

I think we left the shower on, because I could hear it running still after we were done. Sai was still awfully slow, but since he spent a good five minutes (which, honestly, could've been two hours, but the weed made me completely lose track of time) performing foreplay on my lower half because he was too high to realise he'd been doing it for so long, everything felt better than usual. I was able to forget how bad he is at it, which, compared to our first few times together, was an achievement.

The only thing is, now I have to take a hit every time we have sex. And recently, he's really been into morning sex and afternoon delights, sooo...

There are only very few, very short periods of time when I actually feel my teeth. Clouds and the movement of my fingers have become very interesting. My essays are mind-blowing. The ground is rarely steady, but it's getting there. Lights are bright, darks are, well, dark and everything, and I mean _everything_ is hilarious.

Sasuke's hair is hilarious. Sai's art is hilarious. The movies in class are hilarious. Ino's concerned looks are hilarious. The warm pizza that stayed on the counter for a whole week after the oven incident is hilarious. And the permanent Ziploc bag of weed in my school bag is–wait for it... _fucking hilarious_.

So, yeah. I'm in trouble and it makes me giggle.

**. . .**

"Morning, babe."

Sai draws little circles with his fingers on my stomach to wake me up, and when he sees my eyes are open and turned to him, he lets his hand travel south. Before he can reach anything important, I turn to my edge of the bed to retrieve a blunt from yesterday night, but he pulls me back to him and his hand resumes its trek over my body.

"Not this morning," he says. "I want all of you to be here."

Goddamnit.

His hands on me feel good, but I know what's coming and I know I'll have to take care of myself later. He's gotten better at foreplay, I'll give him that, but there has been no change in the actual execution of the deed. My buzz from last night is still making my brain a little fuzzy, but I know it won't be enough to distract me from the unavoidable disappointment. I sigh when it feels good, but nothing beyond that, and it's not because I don't want to make more noise; he just can't bring me to do it.

He eventually enters me and flops around over me, making his little squealing noises, and I try my best to let out a few moans to keep the illusion up. I feel bad about the make-believe, but I don't want him to get frustrated with himself or sad or embarrassed. I do care about him a lot and I'm trying my hardest to not let his poor sex skills be a deal-breaker. He's so sweet and fun and charming, I don't want him to think less of himself because I'm not satisfied in bed. If I had to choose between him and Sasuke, which I don't have to but kind of did at some point, I'd definitely choose him.

He cares about me and doesn't take me for granted; he works for what he wants and isn't one to spend large sums on things he doesn't need; he has a calm temper, which goes very well with my permanent mood swings; and finally, he has a goal in life. I think. Well, he's not all lost and searching for himself like Sasuke. There's just so much more about him than good looks.

Sai makes this big, high-pitched noise and then I know it's over. I wait for him to roll off me, then climb out of bed and get ready to go home. Usually, on a Saturday like this, I'd spend the day with him either at school, out on a date or inside having a cuddle (because he's really good at cuddling), but I've been falling behind on homework and I really need a day off from the weed. After two weeks of almost non-stop smoking, I could really do with some fresh air and not constantly feeling like I'm in a really weird dream.

I kiss him goodbye and leave. I always sneak out to go home every once in a while to check on Sasuke. Upon asking her, Hinata confirmed to me that he's still attending all the classes they have in common, albeit that he missed one or two days of school a while ago, which I assume were around the time he got into a fight with his father, and she promised to keep an eye on him for me. I still have to go home, for appearances' sake, because Temari might eventually get suspicious if food keeps disappearing from the kitchen and I'm never there to eat it. Besides, Sasuke's pretty much all alone in the world _and_ he's hiding out in my room; I can grant him my company from time to time.

On the good side of things, I've managed to sneak a futon into my room for him to sleep on. It's old and crummy and I sometimes get home to find him sleeping on my bed, but when I do spend the night at my apartment, he sleeps on his futon and he doesn't complain. He even invites me to sleep with him from time to time. Which I refuse, of course, but it feels good to hear him say it, because it's pretty much the only normal, familiar thing in my life anymore. I barely have any floor space left, but it's better than sleeping in the same bed. I'd feel too guilty.

The weather is getting warmer and leaves are burgeoning on the trees, which gives the outside this considerably happier colour scheme compared to two weeks ago. April is a lot less rainy than March and today is especially sunny and bright. The light hurts my eyes and fries my brain and I find myself cringing. I usually welcome the new heat, but my state of hot-and-bothered-ness makes it unbearable. I get home soaked in sweat, half-walking, half-crawling to the shower.

My roommates aren't home, which is good, because I can just strip on my way to the bathroom, letting everything drop to the ground like a Hansel and Gretel track to follow. I turn on the water, make it as lukewarm as possible, yank off my underwear and jump in. The stream feels like silk against my hot skin and for a while, I just stand still, letting the water pour on my head and down my body. I shut out any noise from outside and focus on my breathing. It feels good, like I'm re-centering myself.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inha–GAH.

"The fuck are you doing!?"

"I need a shower."

"Oh my God, get out!"

I don't know if he _sensed_ that I wasn't paying attention or if he just decided to enter the shower regardless of who's in it, but Sasuke really seems to have forgotten decent manners and common sense in the process of being kicked out. Unless that's how he was at home. I hope not. But now, he's in the shower, half-asleep, naked and squirting my bottled body soap into his hand. And _naked_.

Okay, I'll admit that a naked Sasuke lathering himself up in my soap is kind of hot. But it's also inappropriate! I have a boyfriend, whom I'm fairly sure I lo– _like_ very much and I have a history of being cheated on and I have morals and I have the biggest girl-boner right now OH MY GOD, SAKURA, SHUT UP. Okay, focus. Just pretend he's not here. He's half-asleep anyway, he won't do anything.

I turn my back to him and pick up my shampoo bottle, careful not to bend over too low. I squish some in my hand and apply it to my hair. I feel Sasuke grab my hips, and just as I'm about to yell at him, he makes us exchange spots and bends his head under the faucet. I stand in my new corner of the shower, stunned. It's not that he wasn't coming on to me that I mind, but that I expected him to. That I'm disappointed he didn't.

Maybe I just want a good reason to yell at him. Yeah, that's definitely it. That or I'm just really used to telling him to back off.

I rub the shampoo into my scalp, still facing Sasuke's back. In all the time I've ever spent seeing him naked, I never really focussed on his back. I did in my dreams, but I can never be sure how reliable they are, precisely because I haven't paid much attention to it in real life. His skin is pale, but not as much as Sai's, and he actually has one beauty spot on his shoulder, a little towards the back, near his neck. He's much more muscular than Sai, but I guess that's inevitable with a father in the police force. Besides, art students aren't renowned for being physically active.

Sasuke's muscles ripple under his skin as he rinses off the soap on his body. His hands run up to his neck and across his shoulders and I find myself wishing he'd put them on me. It's a bad thought to have and I'm ashamed of it, but there's no way around it. I know what these hands can do and I want them on my skin. I want my _own _hands on his back, feeling his muscles, his shoulders, his arms, his chest and oh my God, my hand is moving on its own.

Before I can stop myself, my fingers are grazing his skin and my hand is flattening itself against his back. Sasuke jerks under my touch. Every single cell in my body is frozen except for my arm, which is dragging my hand down his spine. He turns around to face me, a puzzled expression on his face, and I know I have the same on mine, because his brows furrow in confusion. My arm is still extended towards him and I can't seem to get myself to move. I feel my eyes grow wide and my cheeks flush, but still no reaction in my arm.

Sasuke slowly pushes my hand aside and steps close–too close–to tower over me. All his movements are slow and deliberate, as if he's checking where my limit is, as if he's being careful not to scare me away. He raises his hands to my neck, cups my face just below the ears, his thumbs softly wiping water from my cheeks and then he leans down and presses his lips to mine.

He's never kissed me like this. His lips barely move, just enough to make it a proper kiss. My eyelids fall closed and there's suddenly nothing I can do to refrain from responding. There's something incredibly sweet and chaste about this kiss, like a first kiss, like the way little kids kiss each other. Warmth spreads through me and I think–

I think... I'm seeing fireworks.

I've never seen fireworks before. Not with Idate. Not with Sai.

_Oh my God, Sai._

I rip myself away from Sasuke's embrace, shove him away from me, and my back hits the wall behind me. The cold tiles make me snap back to reality and I suddenly feel disgusted with myself. Sasuke's eyes roam my body and I feel the urge to cover myself, but I know that would be futile, given that he's already seen me naked dozens of times. Besides, he doesn't appear aroused. I don't even need to look at his junk to verify it; his face is plenty indication that he won't be making any other moves on me. He seems resigned, almost regretful. Pitiful.

But he can't stay in the shower with me. I can't let him this close again. I was worried that just going home to him might be seen as cheating, but now I've actually, blatantly cheated. It's not like I wasn't into it and it's not like I don't want it to happen again, and that's precisely why I can never let my guard down like this again.

"Get out." My voice shakes, but I'm able to make it sound convincing.

Sasuke doesn't say anything. He wipes a hand over his face and smoothes his wet hair back, gives a sigh and climbs out without another look at me. I wait until I hear the door click open and closed to resume my shower. The kiss didn't help the pool of warmth between my legs, although Sasuke's softness made me sort of forget about it for a few seconds, but now it's worse than ever. I finish rinsing my hair and soaping myself down, then I climb out and towel myself dry.

I wipe a circle on the foggy mirror and take in the sight of my reflection. My cheeks are still flushed, but the dark circles and the deadness of my eyes eclipse my blush. I almost scare myself and I can kind of guess why Sasuke felt he needed to be soft with me. I look like I could break into a million pieces at the slightest shock.

I feel strong. Way stronger now that I'm sober, in fact, and I know for certain that I could go for a wild run under the sheets. But I need to forget about that. I can't let myself be tempted by Sasuke any further. I can't have sex with anyone other than Sai and especially not with Sasuke.

Even though I _really_ want to.

I should just go about my day. I have homework and studying to do, I need to clean my room and I'm starving. I'll just keep myself busy and my mind off of Sasuke. Get out, get dressed, get to business, keep Sasuke away. Piece of cake.

**. . .**

Turns out Sasuke didn't even try. He kept his distance all day, doing his own homework or reading one of my books. It weirded me out too much, so I stepped out and went to the school library. I think the only thing worse than Sasuke being suggestive is Sasuke being indifferent. Maybe his kiss in the shower was the last shred of his desire for me making a final appearance. Maybe it was the last intentional physical contact I'll ever have with him.

Does that mean he's stopped being attracted to me? Am I no longer something he wants? I mean, I know I pushed him away, but does it have to be such an abrupt, clean break? I knew he wasn't feeling all that spectacular with everything that happened with his family, but it's like he's lost a vital part of himself in this whole ordeal. It's not like him to give up easily.

You know, sometimes it worries me how much time I spent thinking about my love life when there are so many more important things to discuss in the world. I'm a Film student, for fuck's sake! I spent my entire second semester learning how to make documentaries. How boring would life be if all documentaries were about petty college relationship problems? I used to talk about Jim Jones and the Second World War and music in the sixties and John Hughes movies and comics and travel. I was so much more interesting in high school.

I once spent an entire lunch hour discussing the moral implications of The Lion King. You'd think students in an all-girls high school would only discuss boys and relationships and sex. We did, but our conversations were more of the yaoi variety and were accompanied with a panoply of drawings that were quite inappropriate for school. We were more interested in the developmental stages of identical twins versus fraternal twins and the origin of the conflict that generated the First World War than in romance and dating. Other girls went on the Internet to fawn over Facebook pictures of their crushes; my friends and I went on the Internet for Failblog and Albino Black Sheep.

We even co-wrote an entire play for our English class, about witches, illusionists, epic quests, terrifying kittens and transgender samurai. Ino and I used it as the script for our final project, although we added a few scenes, thus the necessity of bringing in the art department. When we presented it in high school, we tried to avoid needing background pieces and props, but with a movie, we could use Poptart backgrounds and man-sized goldfish as much as we wanted.

It's a good thing we did, because otherwise, I would've never met Sai. He might not be good in bed, but he makes up for it the rest of the time. He makes me happy, that boy does. He makes me feel worthwhile. We spend an awful lot of time together and I never get tired of him. I get tired of being high, but not of him.

As if she were psychic, Ino texts me the minute I'm done with my paper on Soviet cinema. She deplores the fact that we haven't spent a lot of time together lately and that we need to make up for lost time at Kiba's tonight. Besides the fact that she's never stayed in the same relationship as long as she has with Kiba, I can't help but wonder why she wants us to catch up at his place. Wouldn't she rather it be somewhere more private, like one of our apartments? Or, actually, hers, because mine is not entirely private anymore.

But this is what I need. A good night in with my best friend, talking about more interesting things than relationships, maybe watching movies, maybe drinking a little. No weed, for a change, no terrible sex and no Sasuke. Ooh! Maybe we can play board games. I haven't played a board game in ages.

**. . .**

We played a board game alright.

I'm not entirely sure who won and who lost and I'm not entirely sure that I care. Also, don't really know when or how I got home, considering I can barely stand straight and my vision hasn't been this blurry since...

... meh. It's too hard to think.

There are a number of other things I don't know, like what time it is, how many people I've made out with at Kiba's and how much I've had to drink. I do know how long it's been since I've been this drunk, and that's... uh... yeah! That's a... loooooooong while...

Hahaha.

But back to what I don't know. I don't know what day we are. With the whole midnight thing, it's kind of confusing. I also don't know how I managed to unlock my apartment door, avoid my roommates and make it to my room without breaking something or setting the whole place on fire. 'Cause that's what I do! If I took a cab home, I have no idea how I paid, or if I paid at all. I don't know why Sai's not here. He would've _loved_ the party. And I know that with the amount of alcohol in my system, I really wouldn't make the difference between good sex and bad sex.

Hmmmm...

On second thought, maybe it's good that he didn't come with me. Because although I don't know how I got my clothes off, I do know that I have Sasuke between my legs and I can _definitely_ tell that this is good sex.

**. . .**

Sasuke's arms around me. His torso against mine. Lying between my legs, but not inside me and I don't mind. Skin against skin. Warm, smooth.

My hands on his back. My ear against his chest, against his racing heart. My own heart, quick, beating against my ribcage.

His lips on the top of my head, on my forehead. One hand in my hair, the other on my shoulder blade. A finger drawing circles on my skin.

I can hear him panting. I think I am too.

It's the first time I'm actually physically in this kind of dream.

It feels good.

**. . .**

_**GET DOWN, GET DOWN AND MOVE IT ALL AROUND. GET DOWN, GET DOWN AND MOVE IT ALL AROU-OUND. OOH BABY YOU'RE SO FINE, I'M GONNA MAKE YOU MI-**_

"Mmmh?" I grunt into the wrong end of my cellphone.

"Sakura?" says Ino's voice from somewhere around my chin.

"Maybe."

"Sakura."

"Depends what you want with me." I hear Ino sigh on the other end of the line.

"An editing room just got freed up. Get your ass over here."

"Now?"

"Yes, now!"

"Noooo..."

"Yes, Forehead, get up!"

Oh God, everything hurts. My shoulders, my back, my arms, my legs, my head, my hair. Even my eyelids feel bruised. It takes me a while to realise that I had to reach up to get my cellphone. Not to my side. _Up._ I crack my eyes open, despite my brain's protest (yes, because that one hurts too) and look around me.

I am in my room, which is good. I do not, however, have the usual point of view of waking up in my room. I'm directly under the light on my ceiling, which is exactly in the middle of the room, and my bed is in the corner of the left and back walls when you're standing in my doorway, which means I usually have to turn my head a little to the left to be looking at my ceiling light when I'm lying with my head pointed towards the back wall.

Also, these aren't my sheets. Well, they used to be. They're old sheets. And this is my Harry Potter blanket, which I gave to Sasuke because he didn't ha–

Oh God.

_Oh God._

I sit up. I turn to my right; sure enough, there's my bed, the top at my eye level. I turn to my left; aaand there's Sasuke. Sleeping. Naked. I look down; so am I. I bury my face in my hands.

I can't believe this happened. I can't believe I _let_ it happen. I'm a terrible excuse for a girlfriend. No, scratch that, I'm a terrible excuse for a human being. I _know _how wrong cheating is and how hurt I was when Idate did it to me, and I went ahead and did it to my boyfriend anyway! I shouldn't be permitted around other human beings. Hell, I shouldn't even be permitted to live.

Okay, maybe not that much, but still! I'm horrible! I'm a tramp. A lying, cheating, maneating tramp. I belong in a whore house. I'm dirty and tainted and disgusting.

And now I'm crying. Great. As if I'm the pitiful one here. I do something wrong and then I cry as if it's not my fault. My God, I hate myself.

And Sasuke! As far as I know, he didn't drink, last night. He has no excuse. He could've stopped me; he _should've_ stopped me. He knows I have a boyfriend, he knows I've been cheated on in the past and he knows sex with him is completely prohibited. I'm fairly certain it was obvious that I wasn't all there last night and he still took advantage of it. He took advantage of _me!_ I might not be entirely clean in this, but he's as guilty as I am. If anything, he might have realised that I wasn't in control of my actions last night and decided to have sex with me, thinking I wouldn't stop him or remember it this morning.

I have to get away from him. I need Ino. She'll help me. We didn't even get to talk last night. Or if we did, I don't remember and we must have been too drunk to discuss something substancial.

"Are you crying?"

I jump at the sound of his voice. He sits up next to me, facing forward.

"I didn't think I was that bad."

"Shut up, you twat."

"Hey, whoa, don't get mad at me."

"Why shouldn't I? Look what you did to me!"

"You wanted this just as much as I did."

"I DON'T WANT THIS. I _didn't _want this. It's just that I was drunk, I didn't know any better!"

"All I know is that you came home and jumped on me."

"I have a boyfriend! You know I do! You should've stopped me."

"And you know I–..." He stops himself mid-sentence and frowns. He's keeping something from me and it only pisses me off more.

"You what?"

"Nothing."

"Fuck you."

I get up and throw clothes on, then storm out. I don't know how I'm going to keep living with him. Besides drinking myself silly. Oh, that'd make a great picture. High with my boyfriend and then drunk with my freeloading ex-fuck buddy. I'm on my way to some amazing life choices, aren't I?

**. . .**

_**A/N: **__Something really fun is headed your way, guys! And something not as great, but still very interesting._

_Also, I can't help but think like Sakura in this. I was definitely much more interesting in high school. Oh well._

_Review?_


	15. With A Little Help From My Friends

_**A/N: **__What would you do if I sang out of tune? Would you stand up or walk out on me? Lend me your ear and I'll sing you a song and I'll try not to sing out of key. Oh, I get by..._

_(Or the Joe Cocker version. That one's lovely too.)_

**. . .**

**Wasted – Chapter 15**

**With A Little Help From My Friends**

**. . .**

I'm sitting cross-legged on Naruto's living room floor, surrounded by piles and piles of loose sheets covered in keywords and stick figures. He's convinced me to help him sort through his paperwork before next week's deadline to hand in our final projects. Honestly, it didn't take much convincing; anything to get me out of my apartment and away from my own stupidity.

He's sitting across from me, in his own crater of scribbled-on paper, staring intently at the page in his hand like it's going to reveal some sort of grand magical secret or scream out which pile it belongs in. That's one thing Naruto and I have in common; we're not very organised. We barely get by on our own, but we figure that together, we're not so bad. I'm much more rational than he is, so I sort things by using logic but very little method. He gives himself a system, but eventually, he gets distracted and when he manages to focus on his task again, he realises he put things in the wrong places and nothing makes sense anymore.

Thus, I've been helping him with his projects since our second semester and I like to think that I've played a little part in the excellent grades he got in the Video Creation classes. We always do the same thing; since he doesn't want anyone to have an exact idea of what he's working on, he only permits me to sort through the storyboard. That way, I can't read any dialogue, his indications are vague and sometimes misleading (although I'm sure they make all the sense in the world to him) and the only visual hints I get are the aforementioned stick figures. He explained all of this to me the first time I helped him and didn't even bother to make me think he gave me a really important job; he just didn't want me to read his script or his character charts. Even his editing list is off-limits.

But this is good. It keeps me focussed on something other than my own personal troubles. I had to fill Naruto in on everything because he pretty much disappeared as soon as he got his "okay" to start filming. He'd show up for class, yes, but he'd spend the entire periods doodling, writing or sleeping. When that dude sets his mind to something, there's really nothing to stop him. However, now that he's finally resurfaced, he's the best confidant I could ask for (Ino's been hell-bent on binge-drinking for absolutely no viable reason lately and she's not a good listener when wasted). Sure, we make fun of him because he's sometimes extremely thick, but he's actually way more experienced than us in the matter of lasting relationships. Then, once he knows everything, he stores it somewhere in his brain and changes the subject.

Which is why sitting on his living room floor in a pool of sunlight, flooded with loose sheets of paper, listening to his lighthearted banter about bunny rabbits and yellow umbrellas, without a single drop of alcohol in my system or a single wisp of smoke in my lungs and feeling refreshed by the light April breeze, I seriously don't know how I've managed to live without him for the two past months. I haven't felt this calm and safe since... Well, I don't know. It's been a while. Maybe since that formal last December, maybe since the Christmas holidays, maybe since Sasuke and I became something. Maybe since before Idate. I just... really don't know.

I finish a pile, push it to my left and stretch my legs out in front of me. I lean forward to grab my feet and stretch my shoulders and my back. I let my head flop between my arms, almost resting my forehead on my knees, and wait for the dull pain in my back and legs to die down. When I'm comfortable, I straighten back up and stretch my arms above my head.

"Now is no time to slack, young lady," Naruto says in a falsely authoritarian tone.

"Yes, Sergeant Uzumaki, sir!" I salute him.

"Good. Now go get me a beer, soldier."

"Dude, I'm helping you sort out what pretty much amounts to your entire life, so don't push it."

"Is that a way to speak to your superior?"

"Would my superior like me to accidentally spill that beer on all these beautiful piles we've made?"

"Would my soldier like to get a beer for herself in the process of getting me one?"

"Deal." I jump to my feet and skip over the stacks of paper to get to the fridge, from which I retrieve two bottles of the least piss-flavoured cheap beer Naruto can afford.

"And pair with some Midol while you're at it."

"Oh, look, the bottle is slipping from my hands!"

"OH MY GOD, STOP." He grabs the pile I was falsely threatening to drench in cheap beer and hugs it to his chest. "Don't worry, baby, you're safe with me. The big, bad lady won't get to you."

I hand him his beer and sit back down in my spot across from him. I take a long swig from my own bottle and wince at the terrible taste. Of all the ways to ingest alcohol, beer is probably the worst way. While it requires less consumption than, say, coolers to create some sort of effect on the brain, it sometimes contains less alcohol than most "girly" drinks and doesn't have the added bonus of the pleasant fruit taste. So you have to drink a lot of stale bread-flavoured liquid that makes your bladder full faster than it impairs your judgement. Only the obligatory coldness of it is slightly refreshing, but it soon makes the mouth pasty, and the more you drink to quench it, the worse it gets.

"Why don't you ever have anything good to drink?" I ask Naruto after forcing down another gulp.

"Because as much as I've missed Drunk Sakura, the point today is not to get sloshed but to organise my shit."

"And boy does your shit need organising."

"Precisely. So, please go easy on that bottle and keep stacking."

"You could've made such a fantastically terrible pun with "slacking" and "stacking"." I pick up a new mess of loose pages and plop it down on my lap. "Actually, I'm surprised you didn't make it."

"Yeah, I... I guess I didn't think of it," Naruto says, apparently as baffled as I am. He usually never misses the opportunity to make bad puns.

"You're getting soft." He doesn't answer.

Oh, come on, that one's too easy. It's the perfect setting for an inappropriate penis joke. I watch him in a mix of contempt and pity as he keeps sorting through papers.

"Son, I am disappoint," I say in a deeper tone of voice. That gets a reaction out of him, because he raises his head and gives a good chuckle. He quickly changes his expression to one of false offense and points at me like a reprimanding father.

"Don't you use worn-out memes on me, young lady."

"It's not my fault they were still fresh the last time we properly spoke."

"It hasn't been that long."

"Oh, has it? I can't remember, was the last thing we talked about that super duper awesomesauce party at Shino's or that really pretty girl you keep drooling about in class? What's her name, Hinata? Did you take her virginity yet?"

For the record, that party was in the eighth grade and those were the exact words Naruto used to announce it to Ino and me. Also, it was the night he met Hinata, although it took them six years to actually get together because of Hinata's crippling timidity and Naruto's exasperating habit of being too dense for words.

"Oh, har har. No, actually, the last thing we talked about was Sasuke following you around school. How's that going?"

I give a great sigh. Where to begin? He's three months behind on things; I can't just spring everything on him. I take another sip of beer before talking.

"It's complicated." I start.

"That's the worst explanation I've ever heard."

"I'm not finished, shut it. It's complicated because I'm dating this dude, now. His name is Sai. He's amazing." I pause. I don't mean to hesitate, but I do anyway.

"But?" Naruto knows me too well. Even he knew there was a "but" coming.

"But... he... kinda sucks in bed."

"Ooooh... What does that have to do with Sasuke?"

"Before I was dating Sai, I had an episode of casualty with Sasuke, if you catch my drift." Naruto doesn't say anything, so I go on. "Then at some point, he just vanished into thin air. Well... not completely. He told me he stayed here a while."

"He did."

"Yeah, why didn't you tell me, by the way?"

"I was told not to."

"What? Why?"

"I don't know. He said not to tell anyone. He didn't specify, but I figured he didn't want to look like a loser while he was chasing you."

"Did Hinata know?"

"Yeah, but she promised not to tell too."

"And you call yourselves my friends."

"Continue with your story, you ungrateful, alcoholic child."

I throw him a mean look, but I let the snide comment go. There's no point in getting mad, I've called him worse.

"Well, after you and some other dude kicked him out, he showed up on my doorstep, half-dead from hypothermia – good job on that one, by the way – and because I can't resist pitiful puppies in the snow, I took him in." I pause to take another swig of beer. "Then, stuff happened, and long story short, I slept with him last night."

Naruto looks up at me, his face blank, as if his brain is taking longer than humanly normal to process this information.

"So what?"

HAS HE NOT BEEN LISTENING TO ME!?

"What do you mean, so what!? I'm telling you I had sex with him!"

"Yeah, I heard you. And then, I said so what? You have sex with everybody."

"Bitch. Not everybody."

"No, not _everybody_, but a lot of people. What does one more person matter?"

"Are you really that stupid or just pretending you are to piss me off? Do you _not_ remember how things ended with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named-But-Isn't-Voldemort!?"

"Yes, of course I remember, he–... Oh. _Oh._"

"Yeah."

"Does he know?"

"Does who know what?"

"Does Sasuke know you have a boyfriend?"

"Yeah, he knows. He knew when I threw myself at him and he didn't even bother to stop me."

"And does Sai know what happened? Did he catch you?"

"No."

"Psh. You're fine."

"Wha–? How!? How am I fine?"

"Sasuke has it bad for you."

I'm going to overlook the fact that this bit of information made my insides go all warm and fuzzy. Wait, no, one more minute... Okay, I'm good.

"So? All the more reason to break Sai and me up."

"Tsk, come on! Sasuke's smarter than that and you know it. He's going to look past that and know that by personally breaking your couple, he'll get you to hate him, and that's way worse than the situation he's in right now."

I try to consider the situation from Sasuke's point of view. It's something all psychologists and moms recommend doing in an argument, I know, but this case is different; I don't know how Sasuke's brain works and how things like our predicament affect him. Also, it's completely unfathomable to me that he should have feelings stronger than annoyance towards me now, let alone romantic feelings.

Okay, so, objectively, I'm a train wreck. I make him my ultimate rebound, then he leaves for God knows what reason, I get a boyfriend and pretend I can be in a healthy, balanced relationship and suddenly, I'm drunk-jumping him. Once I emerge from my almost-ethylic coma, I realise what I've done and blow a fuse before disappearing for the day.

Go, me.

So, by being a train wreck, am I keeping his attention like a witness who just can't look away from the horror? Because that would be plausible. But Naruto tells me Sasuke has feelings for me, so going along with that, he'd actually be watching the carnage like a superhero waiting for the opportune moment to swoop in and save my sorry ass? I'm sorry, but if that's what it is, I'll have him know that superheroes can't disappear without a trace and expect to be welcomed back with open legs when they decide to show up again.

Even if I did... kinda... open my legs.

GODDAMNIT.

"Do you mind if we talk about something else?" I ask Naruto, not willing to share my train of thoughts.

"Sure."

There's a moment of silence. Figures that once we've talked about my sex life, there's nothing left for us to discuss. It's like it's been the focal point of my entire existence, this semester. I can't even go five minutes without thinking about either Sai or Sasuke.

"How would you see the world ending?" Naruto asks out of the blue.

"... What?" Where's _that _coming from?

"You know, besides the zombie apocalypse or a meteor or something to do with global warming, how would the world end?"

"Are we supposed to be deep, now?"

"Of course not," he chuckles.

"Hm... I guess I'd want a global Opposite Day. Like, it snows in June and trees grow smaller and when you try to jump, you're actually anchoring yourself into the ground. Water would float like clouds and clouds would crash down on us, as solid and heavy as brick walls. We'd all be squashed to death because running makes you stay in one place."

"How would it snow if there were no clouds?"

"Opposite day. No clouds means downpour."

"What if there are no clouds to begin with, how would the survivors die?"

"Hm... Vegetables would eat them."

"A lot of people don't eat vegetables, that opposite doesn't work."

"Yes it does, it's a double opposite. On Opposite Day, everyone eats vegetables. But then, opposite number two, it's vegetables that eat them."

"Interesting."

"What about you?"

"Global shortage of instant ramen."

"Ah, of course."

"Obviously."

We stare at each other with straight faces for a few seconds before the serious look on his face and the thought of people going hysterical about the ramen shortage are too much for me and I burst out laughing. He does too. It feels good. Unadulterated, unprovoked, uninfluenced laughing about what could be considered as the lamest punchline in the History of Mankind. I'm thinking maybe it's the beer getting to us, but it's unlikely, because my bottle is still half full. I guess that's a good sign. I'm having fun without being on any substance.

That's the effect Naruto has on people.

"I don't know why I just thought of that," Naruto says through his giggles, "but I read recently

about this woman in Mexico who masturbated with a live lobster and it lay eggs in her vagina."

"WHAT." My laughter resumes.

"I swear, I could show you the article, it's hysterical. The reporter had obvious trouble writing it."

I can only imagine being given that story as a journalist and trying to type a PG article about it and it makes me laugh so hard I'm not actually making any sound other than faint whistling.

"Maybe it'll become a trend in Mexican sex shops," I manage to articulate.

"Yeah, like 'Hey, where's your seafood section?'" Naruto says before choking on his own spit, which only makes us laugh even harder.

"For some reason, I keep picturing Madam Sunshine as that woman." My comment throws us into another fit of laughter. Madam Sunshine is the nickname we gave to a sub we had in various classes throughout high school. There were a few ladies like that, who were more supervisors that substitute teachers, because they didn't teach, they just sat at the teacher's desk, reading, while we did schoolwork. They all had nicknames, and that particular one got hers because of how her short, bleached-blond hair was gelled into a sort of halo around her head, and her skin was orange from over-tanning it, so altogether, she looked like a kid's drawn representation of the sun. And the reason why my brain immediately made her pop up in my imagination is mostly because she's the only one out of that army of tweed-wearing retirees who seemed to be getting some, at least during my time in high school. Also, I can be involuntarily but fantastically creepy when my brain grows a mind of its own.

"Oh God, the mental image!" Naruto screams.

"I think I just puked a little in my mouth," I add.

"You! What about me!? I loathe you."

By the way, she once supervised our last period PE class. She waited until we were all done changing before doing so herself, but Naruto, who'd stayed behind to play basketball a little longer (a sport he's terrible at, like most sports) after the bell rang the end of the day, ran into the wrong locker room and caught her changing. I think the mental scar will stay with him forever.

My cheeks hurt. And my abs. If I had any.

We go back to stacking in comfortable silence. We keep working for a few hours until everything is sorted, put in binders and piled neatly on his bedroom desk. I still have no clue what his project is about and I'm starting to doubt he does either because of how messy and indecipherable his paperwork is, but he seems very pleased with himself and speaks of his movie with confidence; I guess that as long as he understands himself, everything is right in the world.

I decide to take my leave immediately after we're done, to keep some time to visit the school library for my final paper on the Surrealist era in art. Naruto pulls me into a long hug before I go that I accept gladly. He's slightly on the pudgy side and has grown much taller than me over the last few years; his bear hugs are the best. Even despite the lingering smell of instant ramen. He's actually more comfortable than Sasuke, and Sai's too skinny to even stand a chance against Naruto's hugs.

"Thanks, Naruto."

"What for?"

I pull away and mock-punch him on the arm.

"For being you," I say in a terrible rom-com tone, albeit with a huge smile stretching my lips from ear to ear. He snorts and returns the mock-punch. "But seriously, thank you. I don't think I would've survived today if you hadn't invited me over. You made me momentarily forget that I'm a moron."

"You're very welcome, dear. That's what I'm here for." I giggle and turn to leave. "Hey," he calls and I turn back. "Don't beat yourself up. It'll work out, I'm sure."

"Yeah, hopefully." I sigh. "Well, see ya."

And with that, I'm out the door and climbing down the stairs to the street. It's barely four in the afternoon and the sun is still high enough in the sky to qualify as broad daylight. Naruto's apartment is closer to the school than mine, but I would've appreciated to have longer to walk, just to get more time to clear my head. There's a slight breeze, but the air is warm enough that I don't mind my tank top and Bermuda shorts. I take big whiffs of fresh air, and it feels as though I've been living in a cloud of stifling, oppressive smoke for the past month.

And, you know, maybe I have.

I never thought I'd ever say this seriously, and it's kind of a stupid thought to have unless you've survived drowning or just escaped a building on fire, but it feels good to breathe. I pull my elastic out if my hair and I shake it out of the braid I'd put it in earlier. I feel free, liberated, light as a feather. Really, spending time with Naruto is what I needed. Hinata must be in a state of perpetual bliss with a boyfriend like him. If only Sai, or even Sasuke, could put me in half the good mood I'm in, I'd have nothing to complain about. But Sai's company requires me to be high off my mind and Sasuke just makes me regret every bad decision I've made about him.

I reach the school but make the extra walk to the west entrance at the back of the building just to stay outside longer. I walk past Block H and Block J, respectively the Humanities and Theater departments and reach the west entrance, which leads directly into Block A, the Literature department. I walk down the main corridor, past rows of lockers and empty classrooms. This is the newest part of the school building; it's walls are made of gypsum painted white instead of the usual mud-coloured brick walls in the Cinema department on the second floor (with the exception of the new editing rooms, which was added roughly around the same time as this part of the Literature department). Due to the large amount of windows, the hallway is pooling with sunlight and doesn't feel quite as claustrophobic as usual.

I turn a corner and smack into someone walking in the opposite direction. It takes me a minute to realise who it is, longer than it takes him, obviously, because he speaks before I have a chance to form a coherent thought.

"Hey. It's you." Okay, so it's a noncommittal remark. I look up to get a look at his face and my stomach drops to my heels.

It's... Oh God, what's his name? This dude... My cellphone, the abandoned classroom, the fire drill... OH MY GOD, what _is _his name!? Alright, nevermind, just let him know you've recognised him.

"You!" Good job, Sakura.

"Hi." He sounds hesitant. It's obvious he remembers what happened. I blush furiously and avert my eyes to look at anything but his face. "Um... Juugo," he says, offering me his hand to shake.

"Right! Juugo. Hi," I answer, responding to his handshake by awkwardly hooking the tips my fingers around his gigantic palm and letting him jerk my entire frame with a firm shake of his arm. His grip on my hand is soft, however, to go with his soothing voice, perhaps. "Sakura."

"I remember." Goddamnit. "How are you?"

"I, uh... I'm good. You?"

"I'm good too."

There's an awkward silence and it's only made worse by him letting go of my hand and me, no longer knowing what to do with my arms. Or the rest of my body, for that matter. I try to think of things to say, but all I come up with is either pathetically irrelevant or completely inappropriate. We look around for a while and I realise he's probably as much at a loss for words as I am.

"Um... Where were you headed?" He asks nonetheless.

"Library." I answer.

"I see..." He pauses. "Want me to walk you there?"

"Uh... Sure." I don't see why not. Oh, right, maybe because it's REALLY FUCKING AWKWARD. I resume my trek to the library and he falls into step with me. Unlike the comfortable silence with Naruto earlier, this one is anything but. We walk down the hallway and emerge into the intersection in the middle of the school building. We bifurcate into Corridor M, where the library is. I should say something before we reach it. Maybe I should apologise. Yeah. I'll do that.

"Hey, um... Juugo?"

"Yes?"

"I, uh... I'm sorry about... about what I did. About how I acted."

"Oh." He seems genuinely surprised at my words. "Oh, it's... it's fine."

"No, it's not. I was pissed and I think I was trying to prove a point. I took advantage of you."

"Well... I offered."

"Yeah, but were you really all that serious? Would you have gone through with it, at school no less?"

"No, I guess not."

"Yeah. So, I'm sorry. Thank God for that fire drill."

"Yeah," he chuckles half-heartedly.

We arrive at the double glass doors and I hesitate to enter. I don't think I should leave it at just that. I kind of owe it to myself to not seem like a nymphomaniac to more people than I already do. That male actor I used during filming came back for more in the past weeks and I was horrified at how convinced he was that I would let just about anyone in my pants. I should clear it with Juugo that it's not actually the case.

"Look." I start. "I don't know how I got you to come with me, but I need you to know that it's not something I do on a regular basis with complete strangers."

"Oh. Yeah, I figured."

"Really? How?"

"You pushed me away so hard and ran out so fast that you made me feel like I was the one forcing myself on you."

"Oh." There's a pause. "Why _did_ you follow me, though?"

It's not like I'm particularly attractive. Most of the guys I've gone home with only gave me the time of day because they were as drunk as me and I was not puking my guts out. I'm not butt-ugly either, but there certainly is room for improvement. And it's not like I have men queuing at the door. I stopped answering booty calls when things started with Sasuke, but even then, I only got called when the guys were wasted. That's how those things work for me. It's not great for the self-esteem, but I guess it's one way to keep me grounded. Admittedly, one that makes me resent myself a little, but still. It's like the universe is reminding me that although I've had many encounters with men, I'm not some irresistible bombshell like you see in TV dramas and I shouldn't act like one.

So, surely in broad daylight, at school, with no alcohol involved, Juugo didn't choose to follow me for my looks. Especially since, as I can see today, he doesn't seem like the type to sleep around with anyone that offers. And it couldn't have been my _shining _personality either, I'd barely spoken three sentences to him.

"To be honest," he says. "I didn't really understand what was going on. And then I figured you wanted to make out or something."

"Oh."

"And there was this whole thing with Sasuke. I guess I thought that if he'd shown interest in you, you'd be something special."

"Oh." I repeat.

"But-... Well, my friends keep telling me that I'm too shy. So they dared me to ask you out when you came looking for your phone. We figured you had to be hot."

"I see."

"I didn't think to look through your photos. You weren't at all how I pictured you."

"And by that, you mean...?"

"Oh, no! Don't get me wrong, you're very pretty." A spectacular blush bursts on his cheeks and he averts his eyes. "I-I mean... It's just that I thought you'd look... You didn't look like a man eater."

"Um... Is that a good thing?"

"Yeah. You seemed... nice. Like, the kind of girl who could be friends with just about anyone. The kind who doesn't screw people over and whom nobody wants to hurt. So I didn't really understand how you could've gotten involved with someone like Sasuke. That's also why I was taken by surprise when you–"

"Right! Um... Personal issues, mainly. I'm trying to work through them."

"I figured. But you shouldn't give yourself up like that."

"Like what?"

"You seem way too nice to let yourself be so uncared for. It's obvious one-night stands are not for you. Don't force yourself into them."

It takes all my strength not to burst out laughing. If he only knew. But I guess that's why he said it; he doesn't know. Of course he doesn't, we're not in the same circles. How could he know about my time with Sasuke and my relationship with Sai? Hell, he doesn't even know about everything I've done before we met. If he did, I don't think he'd be quite so concerned about my well-being. And I don't think he'd peg me as unfit for one-night stands, either.

"Um... Thanks, I'll... I'll remember that."

"Good." There's another silence and I try to figure out a way to end the conversation. "You deserve better."

He gives me the same smile he had the day we met, that sweet smile of a Pastoral professor that really doesn't suit the rest of his body. He has very calm features and the more I look at him, the more I feel like I would've tainted him with my antics back in January. I feel terrible. I'm sure he wouldn't be trying to cheer me up if I'd kept going. The things he said about me, I could say the same about him; he's way too nice to let himself be so uncared for, especially by me.

But I guess now I know what attracted him to me. Sasuke did. Juugo said it; if Sasuke had shown interest in me, then I must have been something special. But that doesn't explain the whole nine months between my breakup and Sasuke. And does it mean I've lost all powers of attraction, now? Or that I just regained them because of last night? And what about Sai? He arrived almost at the same time Sasuke disappeared. This theory doesn't work.

"So, I was only attractive because of Sasuke?" I ask. Hopefully, he'll have a satisfying answer.

"No. You were very attractive on your own." His furious blush is back. "Once you were in that classroom, there was none of that nice girl persona anymore. You were... persuasive. You pulled me in just by whispering in my ear. I don't even remember what you said, I just remember thinking how–" He stops himself, and if I ever thought there was no way he could get any redder, I was wrong. His face practically glows red and he locks his eyes on his shoes, refusing to look at anything else.

He's just too adorable. He's not intimidating at all anymore, and I sort of pity him a little. I should put an end to his embarrassment, spare him the obvious eternal shame of finishing his sentence. Besides, his answer definitely cheered me up, and his flustered face just proves that he's telling the truth. At least now, I don't owe Sasuke everything attractive about myself.

"Thank you, Juugo. That really helped."

He gives me a meek smile through his blush, says a quick little "Okay, bye" and half-walks, half-runs off. I can almost see smoke billowing from his ears. I watch him turn the corner, and once he's out of my sight, I push through the library doors, a smile stretching from ear to ear.

**. . .**

Sometimes, when you're drunk, you do things you wouldn't do in a sober state. You sing, you dance badly, you say whatever goes through your mind, you take off your clothes, you make out with people you don't know and in some cases (read: in my case), you have sex with people you don't know. Or people you do know but really don't care for.

And sometimes, _sometimes_ you do something outrageous, something so inexplicably uncharacteristic of you and so utterly, unbelievably stupid, even irrevocable evidence doesn't seem to prove it happened.

The best example I can give is me, right now, sliding the key in Sasuke's parents' front door lock. It took three homemade vodka-cranberries with more vodka than cranberry and about eight shots of vodka (after I ran out of cranberry juice, and I say "about" because I stopped counting at five) to get me to agree with Sasuke's idea; we need to get him his cat back. Harry's probably lonely and left to starve in Sasuke's part of the house and no matter how angry I still am at Sasuke, I can't let a poor little defenceless cat suffer. Also, we're both drunk and this will be fun.

I'm not sure what possessed me to be drunk in his presence in the first place, considering the disastrous turn of events last time it happened (read: last night) and I'm also not sure how come _he_ wasn't more reluctant to drink with me. Basically, I got home and threw myself at the alcohol before he could even utter a single word in my direction. I usually do that to forget a really bad day, but I was rather light on my feet when I arrived at the apartment. Maybe I did it to avoid him bringing me down. He joined in eventually, claiming he'd had a bad day too.

What was I talking about? Oh yeah! The plan.

The plan is a little woozy in my head (and probably in his head too, although he did create it), but what I do remember is that I would walk in through the front door, climb the stairs to his room and open his window. I'm guessing I should do all of this as silently as possible, but I seriously doubt I'll be capable of that in my slightly disabled state and in the complete darkness of his house, which is quite normal at three in the morning.

He parked his car two blocks away, to make sure nobody on the street recognised it, and I suggested we left our shoes in the car, to avoid making too much noise, taking them off and forgetting them there or leaving shoeprints his parents could have the police look for. What? I'm smart. Anyway, once at the door, Sasuke thrust his keys in my hands and gave me my orders, then disappeared around the side of the mansion.

So, now, I'm tiptoeing my way up the stairs to his room, and by that, I mean that I'm staggering, tripping over each stair and crashing into the banister as ungracefully as anyone has ever been under the influence. But I'm fairly certain I didn't make any noise. I stop to listen for Sasuke's parents, but besides a slight whistling in my ears, the house is completely silent. I stumble through the last steps and into Sasuke's room. I frown at the freakish cleanliness that Sasuke was never able to keep up when I was still regularly staying over. His mom must have gone into a rampage. Although he told me the reason why he moved (or was kicked) out, I'm pretty sure his mother's addiction to orderly shelves and squeaky clean floors had something to do with it as well.

I look around for a while. The familiar posters, the litter box, the bed – oh God, _the bed_ – with its plush blankets and silky sheets, in so many ways better than my bed and the measly futon I was able to provide Sasuke. Maybe I should give him my bed... Meh, he doesn't deserve it. I continue my survey of the room; his closet devoid of any clothes beside a suit cover (possibly with a suit in it) and a cat carrier, his spinny-wheely chair that we had one evening of pure, unadulterated fun with, a neat pile of school supplies on his desk. Oh, look! My English textbook. I've been looking for it for days!

What _is _that whistling?

I hear a quick knocking on the window and rush over to find Sasuke, dangling off the ledge, looking dangerously close to letting go. I unlock the bolt, yank the window open and grab onto his arms. He must be pushing himself up with his feet on the wall, because pulling him through the window is surprisingly easy. I stumble backwards and involuntarily bring him down with me. We crash on the floor with a thud and a synchronised "Oof".

"Why couldn't you just use the front door like me?" I whisper vehemently as we try to get to our unsteady feet.

"Front doors are overrated. Climbing into windows is cool."

Drunk Sasuke is _so_ much more fun than Sober Sasuke.

"Then why couldn't I climb into the window too?"

"Because you're a girl."

Okay, scratch that. Drunk Sasuke is a dick.

So, the dick makes a beeline for his closet, from which he pulls the cat carrier, and that's when I realise that we have to find the cat. We're drunk, tired, in the dark and technically not supposed to be here, and we have to find the cat. I glance around, hoping it'll somehow have developed the ability to glow in the dark. Okay, bad plan. I take out my phone to use it to shed some light on my surroundings. It does little to help. Maybe I should turn the lights on. I make a move towards the light switch on the wall and immediately yanked back by Sasuke. He shakes his head at me, then points and heads to his bed. He pokes a pillow, which makes a funny noise and starts moving, arching its back and stretching its legs and oh, it's the cat. It meows and rubs its head on Sasuke's hand. Sasuke grabs him, quite indelicately I might add, and shoves him into the carrier. I don't know how he managed to recognise it out of the pile of pillows on his bed, because I sure didn't, but all that matters now is that we have the fluffy quadruped and we need to get the hell out before anyone hears the whistling.

Sasuke thrusts the carrier into my arms and pushes me towards the door, then picks up the cat's litter box and hurries back to the window, which I guess I'm not cool enough to escape out of. I take it as my cue to walk back down and out the front door. I get to the stairs, politely walk around the person climbing up with a cool "excuse me" and make my way out without any hitch. I close the door behind me and break into a run towards Sasuke's car. The cat protests in the carrier, but I'm doing this for his benefit, so really, he should be grateful. Sasuke's already sitting behind the wheel, with the engine on. He steps on it as soon as I slam my door shut and we head off stealthily like the two awesome cat-retrieving ninjas we are. I must say, that was easier than I thought it would be.

We get to my apartment I'm not sure by what miracle, considering the state we're in. We crash through the front door, probably waking everyone up, and if that doesn't do it, the incessant meowing must be finishing the job, but at this point, I don't really care. We stumble to my room and I don't even change into pyjamas before I hurl myself at my bed, suddenly craving sleep the way any respectable college student does. I hear Sasuke fiddle around the room a bit, and eventually the meowing stops, but I'm not paying attention anymore.

My eyes won't open anymore. Sasuke puts something cool in my hand, and it's only when he brings it to my mouth that I realise it's a glass a water. Aaw, he's so considerate. Which is odd, I guess, because he usually just lets me get terrible hangovers and mocks me about being a girl and therefore not being able to hold my liquor. Which is not true. I'm a champion. I gulp the water down nonetheless, grateful for the favour, and let myself fall asleep. The last thing my brain registers before I slip out of consciousness is that Sasuke doesn't climb into bed with me.

I'm not sure if what I'm feeling is gratitude or disappointment.

**. . .**

I'm lying on my stomach on my bed, trying to type out a Humanities paper that I have no inspiration for, with Harry's furry head nudging my hand for petting which makes me create the most senseless typos. Admittedly, my essay would be much more interesting with all the misspelled words, but I'm guessing my Humanities professor wouldn't find it quite as entertaining as I do. I write bullshit sentence after bullshit sentence, without making any progress on the very trite ethical issue of the legalization of marijuana (ain't that dandy?), in the hopes of reaching my five hundred-word goal by repeating the same things over and over again with different ways of phrasing them.

Sasuke's out, probably doing something way more interesting than I am. He got a call early this morning, but I was too sleepy to properly hear what went down, and when I actually woke up, he was already gone.

_** GET DOWN. GET DOWN. AND MOVE IT ALL AROUND. GE-**_

"Ino! My saviour, my blessing, my God-sent Messiah, my-"

"I know, I know, you love me."

"YES. I DO. 'Sup?"

"You tell me. It's been forever."

"Has it?"

"Well, two weeks. Since we spoke. The party doesn't count."

"You and I don't have the same definition of the word 'forever'."

"Go on, Forehead, spill."

"I saw Naruto yesterday."

"Before week fifteen?"

"I know, it's a miracle."

"Did you lure him out with ramen?"

"No, he invited me over."

"You must have superpowers."

"Well, he needed my help to organise his paperwork."

"Organisation superpowers, then."

"Pff, as if. You know the state of my entire existence."

"Yes, your life is a pigsty. Which is why I called. Any progress?"

"I had sex with Sasuke after the party. Drunk sex."

"Forgive me for not being flabbergasted, I was kind of expecting it."

"Yeah, well, I hoped it wouldn't happen. I've cheated."

"You have."

"I'm a cheater."

"You are."

"I think this officially makes me a whore."

"Indeed."

"Um, Ino? If you could deny one or two self-deprecating things I say, it'd be much appreciated."

"I'm sorry, Forehead. It's just that I know trying to deny what you say in this situation is only going to make you super pumped about contradicting me and proving beyond the smidge of a doubt that you are right for beating yourself up."

I groan in protest, but I know she's right. Twelve years of friendship certainly hasn't made it easy for either of us to hide anything from each other.

"You were wasted, you weren't thinking straight. Liquor makes you hurl yourself at sex like a moth to a lamp."

"You know just as well as I do that liquor only makes you uninhibited about doing what you actually want to do."

There's a pause on the other end of the line. I can tell Ino's looking for the right words to say as to not upset me. I also know that if she doesn't find anything good, she'll just say something blunt and deal with my tantrum after. Finally, it comes.

"Well, then, figuratively screw Sai and literally screw Sasuke. Ain't no way around it."

I don't want that idea to seem right in my brain.

Harry decides to go take a walk on my keyboard and I let him, figuring that my essay can only get better from his paws pressing random letters or accidentally deleting the whole thing. He sniffs around, then turns to me, sniffs my face and nudges it with his head. I pick him up, roll onto my back and set him down on my chest.

That's where he slept all of last night. I woke up with him pretending to be a breathing fur collar around my neck. He got even bigger since I last saw him, but he's not fat; just fluffy. He has a tail like a squirrel's and is about as weightless as an actual ball of fluff, and I've only just realised that he sort of looks like Toothless, with the black fur, the green eyes and the annoying habit of biting my hands and feet to compensate for having his claws pulled out. He stretches his body out on top of me and nudges my face with his paws and head. I turn my head to the side and he takes it as his cue to rest his on it and start to purr. I stroke his fur absentmindedly.

"Hey, Sakura?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry for leaving you alone at the party. I really meant to talk to you, but Kiba hadn't told me he was planning to have people over."

"It's fine, don't worry."

"I don't know, maybe if we'd talked, you wouldn't have slept wi–"

"It's fine. What's done is done."

"Dude, I'm a girl, I know that means you're pissed."

"I'm not pissed."

"But you're disappointed."

"... Maybe a little. But not in you. Mostly in my poor life choices."

"I'm sorry, Forehead. I want to make it up to you."

"Take me out for breakfast tomorrow and I'll be satisfied."

"You sneaky little profiteer."

"Hey, you offered. Besides, you have a job, and thus money, which I severely lack. Therefore, you're paying for breakfast."

"Psh. Fine."

"Thank you."

"Pff."

"I lurve you."

"You better."

"Oh! And if you could get Temari laid, the Earth's entire population would be eternally grateful."

"Will it cost me anything?"

"Can you do it without having to pay someone?"

"Can it be done?"

"I'm sure it can, she's not so terrible. Just kind of uptight."

"Done. At least I'll enjoy this part of the deal."

"You mean you don't enjoy having breakie with me? I'm hurt."

"You eat like a pig."

"You're the pig."

"Yeah, but I'm paying your pigging out, so no, I won't enjoy."

"Good. Pick me up at eight."

"Go choke on a peanut."

"Bye, bestie!"

"Bye, honey."

**. . .**

_**A/N: **__Jesus Murphy, that took forever! Sorry for the long wait. A lot of things have happened since the last chapter and I'm trying to figure some personal stuff out, but I'll try my best to update sooner._

_Review?_


	16. Wake Me Up

_**A/N: **__This one was surprisingly quick to write. I hope it'll keep you waiting while I sink into the final five weeks of my CEGEP life, complete with ten-page essays and final exams. Whee!_

**. . .**

**Wasted – Chapter 16**

**Wake Me Up**

**. . .**

I wake with a deep intake of oxygen, as I always do. I never notice, usually, because it's such a trivial detail of my mornings, but tonight, it comes as a relief. My eyes adjust to the neon lights, too bright overhead, and I lift my head, which had plopped backwards when I'd fallen asleep. My neck is sore, but that's what comes with sleeping while sat on a chair. Thank God for my subconscious ability to not move an inch if I'm sleeping in a situation where I shouldn't move; I really wouldn't have liked waking up leaning on someone.

My head is very woozy and I know I'm still under the influence, but at least I'm not seeing stop motion panels anymore. At least I'm not still completely terrified and convinced I'm dying. I look around me. The waiting room is even fuller than it was when I got here. I look down at my hands; they're still clutching the plastic bag I never used and my health insurance card. My hair flops down to my thighs with the movements of my head. It takes me a while to realise the elastic on my wrist could be used to tie it up, which I then do. It already feels better; the air is not as stuffy anymore. I know I didn't take my phone before leaving and I know I can't just walk somewhere, not in my state and not at this hour. Especially since I'm not entirely sure where I am in relation to the places I know I could crash at. I need to call someone.

I look around the room again and spot the public payphone. I set my sights on it, but I test my feet and legs carefully before getting up and walking over, slow as a snail on sleeping pills. I ease myself into the chair in front of the phone, fully aware that I'm acting completely wasted, which I still am, but at least I don't have the delusion of being inconspicuous. I know everyone can tell I'm not in my normal state. Then again, they either don't care or are worse off than me. Or they're asleep. The screen on the phone indicates it's 2:36 in the morning. I don't know how long I've been here or how long I've been asleep, but the last time I saw a clock, I was still making Kraft Dinner at Sai's place, and it read 7:14.

I stare at the phone and try to decide who I should call to pick me up. I can't call my parents; how on Earth am I supposed to explain this to them? I certainly can't call Ino; she'd throw a fit and shun me forever. I don't want to call Sai; I'm too scared to go back there. Besides, I don't know his number by heart. This thought sends me into a new wave of panic. I don't know anyone's number. Without my phone, I can't reach anybody I know, except my parents and that idea's already been shot down. Hell, I don't even have money on me. I basically left with nothing but my clothes and my health insurance card. Even my shoes barely made the cut.

Okay, no, calm down. There must be some sort of receptionist here. Surely you can ask her – or him, if it's a man, no discrimination – to look someone up for you. I look behind me and spot a reception desk. And thank God, there's a chair in front of it. I get up from my chair just as slowly as I got into it and waddle over to the desk, careful not to bump into anyone. I may be slow, but at least I'm walking straight. I reach the desk and plop down on the chair; a young lady greets me with a smile.

"Hello," she says. "How can I help you, honey?"

She's probably five years older than me, but I'm in no position to protest her words of social hierarchal superiority.

"Hi, um... Could you..." Come on, Sakura, you can do it, it's just words. "Could you l-look someone up for me? I don't have my phone and I can't remember his number. Maybe you have him in your system."

"Unfortunately, I'm not permitted to give out another patient's personal information. Is there another number you can call that you remember?" She asks politely.

"N-no. My parents are on vacation," fine, that's a lie. "And there's no one else close enough to come get me."

"Hm... Let me go ask my superior. Stay right here, okay, sweetie?"

I nod and watch her get up and disappear through a door behind the desk. My perception of time is still way off, so I'm not sure if it takes her ten seconds or ten minutes to come back, but she eventually does, and I think I might look like I'm falling asleep again because she calls out to me.

"Honey, are you okay?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah, sorry."

"Alright, sweetie, I got permission from the head of the hospital to give you a phone number if the name you're looking for is in the system, but beyond that, I unfortunately can't help you."

"Okay."

"What's his name, peanut?" She sounds like she's speaking to a four-year-old.

"Uchiha. Uchiha Sasuke."

"Alright, let me check." She types his name in and clicks on a few things. "Yes, there he is. I'll write it down for you." She takes a post-it sticky note and writes a series of numbers, then hands it to me. I thank her and leave the desk.

I waddle back over to the payphone. Once in the chair, I pick up the receiver and dial my phone card number, another thing I'm grateful for; my mom got it for me when I was in high school, before I had a cellphone, so that it wouldn't cost me anything to make a call from a payphone. I struggle to remember the PIN, but I get it right on the first try and I exhale out of relief when the automatic message tells me to dial the number I'm trying to reach. I punch in the numbers on the post-it and when I hear the tone, I start praying for someone to pick up.

On the fourth ring, someone does. It's a woman.

"Hello?" she sounds half-asleep, which is normal, at nearly three in the morning.

"U-um... Hi, could I speak to Sasuke, please?" I ask.

There's a sigh on the other end of the line, but after a few seconds, she says "Yes, hold on." There are a few more seconds of silence, probably even a minute or two, then I hear some soft knocking, a door clicking, a groan and the woman say "It's for you." Then, a few seconds later, I hear his voice.

"Hello?" He sounds even more tired than his mother.

"Hey."

"Sakura?"

"Yeah. Sorry to wake you up."

"What's going on? Why are you calling my home phone?"

"U-um... I'm at the hospital. I don't have my phone."

"What? Why are you at the hospital?" He seems completely awake now.

"It's a long story and I'll tell you as soon as I'm out of here, I promise, but can you come pick me up?"

"It's three in the morning."

"Please."

He sighs. "I can't. I'm still drunk."

"Oh." I'm screwed.

"Wait." There's a pause. "Do you have money on you?"

"No, all I have is a plastic bag and my health insurance card."

There's another pause. "Okay, I'll send a car to pick you up."

"But I don't have any money."

"It's one of the family cars, you don't need to pay. He'll drive you straight over." Oh. I hadn't realised it would mean going to his place. I thought he'd just get me home to my apartment. "And no, it's not debatable. You're spending the night." HOW DID HE KNOW.

"Mkay."

"Get outside, it shouldn't take long."

"Okay."

"Later."

"Yeah."

I hang up, get up and walk back to the front desk. I ask the lady how to get outside. She gives me a series of indications, but my attention span is not very long at the moment, so I only remember I need to turn the next corner on my right and that at some point, there will be stairs. I thank her and take the first right, then walk in a straight line and hope for stairs. Sure enough, I get to a huge flight of stairs, which I climb down extremely slowly and carefully, holding on to the ramp for dear life. I walk through what I guess is the atrium and get to a series of double doors that lead me straight outside. Thankfully, the weather is uncharacteristically warm for late April, and the light clothes I'm wearing don't leave me freezing. There's another person outside, probably a doctor on a cigarette break. She's on her phone, but my brain doesn't register what she's talking about.

I clutch my card and my bag like a security blanket. Every few seconds, my mind wanders off and I have to pull myself back to reality, which really isn't easy when even reality seems like I'm stuck in a dream. Not a particularly pleasant or horrible dream, just a very real and very surreal one at the same time. I've virtually never been to a hospital since probably my birth. Oh, wait, no, I had some sort of infection as a child. But I was four. There, I haven't been to a hospital since I was four. It's been fifteen years.

In a matter of minutes, a black car pulls up at the curb. Since there's no one else but the lady on her phone and she doesn't seem to be waiting for anyone, I figure it's the car Sasuke sent for me. I walk over to it. The driver pulls his window down.

"Haruno Sakura?"

"Yes!"

Relief washes over me. I open the car door and slip inside, my heart bursting in my chest with elation. We drive off smoothly and I lean back against the seat, letting my eyes close and my brain take a break. The drive is too short for my liking, but I know that I'll soon be sleeping in a perfect bed that doesn't smell like weed, so I don't mind for long. Sasuke's waiting in the garage when the driver pulls up. He opens the door for me, and as soon as he takes a good look at my face, it registers on his that he knows exactly what's wrong with me. He helps me out delicately, as if I were to break if he dropped me or handled me too roughly.

I hear him thank the driver, but my brain shuts down after. I don't even know how I got into Sasuke's bed. I know it's his because it smells like him and it relaxes me. My hair feels wet. Maybe he made me take a shower. If he did, it was a good idea; I would've felt bad to smear puke on his sheets. I know he's put me in different clothes, because I'm now wearing soft pants and a t-shirt, whereas I was wearing shorts and a tank top at the hospital. I feel him climb into bed behind me. He scoots over close to me, puts an arm around my midriff and pulls me tightly against his chest.

I don't protest. I don't even mind. Not tonight. Not after what happened. And certainly not when it feels so good. He slips his other arm under my pillow and I rearrange my head to rest it on his arm. The one around my torso moves to get my hair out of his face, which makes me giggle. Probably because of my current state of mind. Or because I'm so incredibly happy to be here. He hears me and pulls me even closer, into an actual embrace, his arm back around me. I slip my fingers through the ones on my stomach and clutch his hand as tightly as he's holding me, and I grip the arm under my neck and around my shoulders with my other hand, to signify that I welcome and appreciate the gesture. Our legs entwine, as naturally as if we'd been sleeping in the same bed for years. He gives me a kiss on the back of my head, loosens his grip – but only a little – and we eventually fall asleep.

I've never been this comfortable.

**. . .**

When I wake up, it's still sort of dark outside. I'm facing Sasuke, my nose pressed into his chest. He breathes into my hair. Our legs are still entwined and he's still holding onto me, but now I too have an arm draped around his torso. My other arm is between us. It takes me a minute to understand what's nudging against my hand. I should be put off or mortified, but I must admit that I missed this. I used to wake up like this almost every day a few months ago. Besides, it amuses me. I remember what would happen when he woke me up in the middle of the night or in the early hours of the morning, pressing his erection against my back or my thigh through his underwear, or when I woke him up because I couldn't sleep. Once you get past morning breath, wake up sex is seriously the best there is. Especially with Sasuke.

I look up at him and I realise he's awake too. He gives me a kiss on the forehead and exhales through his nose onto my hair. The hand at the end of the arm under my head brushes up and down my back, my shoulder and my arm. The other one is at my waist, slips over my hips, grabs my hand and presses it further against his groin. He mustn't be that conscious yet, because it's not a habit of his to force me into anything. Oh, sure, I've stroked him before, but I'm not really warm to the idea of doing it this morning. I just want him to hold me, to kiss me, to make love to me simply and softly, like we've never done before. Like _I've_ never done before.

The logical side of me doesn't really understand why I would want to have sex after last night, but the emotional side of me is craving it and very convincing. I pull my hand away from Sasuke's junk and whisper a small "Sorry". He pulls me closer against him and sighs "It's okay" into my hair.

"I want you," I whisper against his chest, holding him tighter too. No need to deny it. I wouldn't have called him in the first place if I didn't. "But I don't really want to–"

"It's okay," he repeats. "I wasn't thinking."

"You were thinking with your dick," I giggle. He chuckles.

"Indeed. You've figured me out."

"Men are all the same."

"Women are too."

"Hm... We're crazy bitches."

"Yep. And we're horny bastards."

"Exactly."

He chuckles again. I turn my face to his, looking at his lips instead of his eyes. We're so close, his nose is nudging my cheek. I inch closer and he does too and eventually, softly, softly, our lips touch. We barely move them at first, just brushing them over each other's, then he really presses his against mine and it's like we never stopped seeing each other. I know exactly how his lips move, how to move mine against them. The months with Sai have done nothing to my muscle memory. I slip an arm around his neck, he hauls me up so that one of my legs hooks over his hip all on its own. One of his hands slips under my shirt, warm against the skin of my back, sending a delicious shiver through my entire body, all the way down to my toes.

We stay like that, kissing and holding, for such a long time that the sun is completely risen when our lips part. Not for long, however, because they only do part while he takes my shirt off. Still as slowly, as carefully. He doesn't play around with my chest like he sometimes used to do. He holds me close, preferring the feel of my skin on his. Still kissing me, he rolls on top and settles between my legs. I feel his erection through his underwear and my pyjama pants (which are technically his). He nudges me with it, like he used to do. I giggle. I missed that too. He chuckles against my lips.

He sits up on his heels and slowly, slowly, pulls the pants off my legs. I haven't shaved in a little while, but he doesn't seem to mind. He bends down to kiss me again, then leans away and reaches into his bedside table drawer, presumably for a condom. While he takes his underwear off and puts the condom on, I take a minute to relish in the fact that I'm not at all doubting or second-guessing what we're doing. I don't care about Sai, I don't care that I'm cheating or that I'm doing this after the horrific night I had; I want Sasuke and he wants me and that's all that matters right this second.

He climbs back on top of me, hooks my legs around his hips and slowly, slowly, slips inside of me. It's been so long (our drunken night three weeks ago doesn't count) that it actually hurts a little when he does. It takes me a few seconds to stretch around him, but his slow movements give me time to adjust. He towers over me, his hands on either side of my head. Mine are on his forearms and I give them a squeeze when the pain subsides. And he starts to move.

It's slow and deliberate, but not the infuriating kind of slow I've been getting from Sai since the beginning of our relationship. And with Sasuke, I feel _everything_. The only sounds I make are breathy moans, sighs with my barely audible voice at the end with every thrust he makes, because it's so soft, so sweet. He slips his arms under my shoulders and holds himself against me, tightly, like last night. He kisses my shoulder, my collarbone, the top of my breasts, my throat, my lips. Especially my lips.

His pace accelerates a little, but barely; he still keeps it sweet. He readjusts himself over me, to make it feel even better. I can feel the spring tightening in the pit of my stomach and my moans start to actually sound like moans. I hear him breathe in my ear and warmth spreads through my chest. He kisses me again, more urgently. I like kissing him. His lips aren't too full like Sai's or too thin like so many other men's. He doesn't open his mouth too much, and he doesn't overuse his tongue. Our teeth nearly never collide and we know exactly when to pull away from each other and when to come back for more.

My nails scrape the skin of his back as I slide my hands up to his head, into his hair. I keep his head to mine, pulling his mouth down harder on mine. While it's still slow, it's not just sweet anymore; it's heated, passionate. But not dirty. It feels better than any other time I've had sex, with him or with Sai or with anyone else I've slept with. Sasuke's thrusts are slow, yes, but powerful, and he fills me up completely. His body flush against mine makes me feel safe, at ease. He deliberately tries to make me understand how much he cares, how much he wants me, and no matter how cheesy it sounds, I feel like I'm soaring through the sky and flying to the stars.

... Okay, too much cheese. Nevermind.

He quickens his pace a little again, but whispers in my ear "Do you want to turn around?" Normally, when he asked me that, I used to get excited because it felt dirty, because I felt dominated. But today, I know it's because he wants to make me come, and of course I'll say yes. I don't actually say it, I simply nod, but he stops his thrusts, pulls out of me and gives me space to turn onto my stomach. I raise my hips a little so he can slip back into me, and before he starts to move again, he sets us up so I'm not dominated as much as simply under him, only on my stomach instead of my back. I don't feel like a whore on her knees, putting her ass up. His chest is against my back and my legs are propped up on his thighs.

He starts to move again and in the new position, he hits my spot with more accuracy. Actual screams escape my lips now, screams that I'm not forcing out, and the spring in my stomach gets even tighter. I feel my release inching closer. Sasuke nudges my hair away with his nose, then his lips are on my shoulders and the nape of my neck. I rest my head on my forearms, clutching the sheets like a lifeline. Sasuke stops for a second to pull the covers back over us, then resumes his movement inside of me.

I get closer and closer and my screams get higher and louder, and Sasuke goes faster and harder, and... and... and...

I let out a strangled cry as my orgasm washes through me. The wind is knocked out of my lungs again and all my limbs tremble. I clench around him until he lets out a grunt and stops moving. He stays there for a while, catching his breath, then pulls out. He lies next to me, both of us panting. I look him in the eyes and I can't help my smile.

He smiles too, leans over to me and kisses me again, then gets off the bed and peels his condom off. I retrieve my shirt, slip it on and walk out of his room to the bathroom. It had become a routine of ours, him throwing his condom out, me rushing to the bathroom to avoid infection, back when we were a regular thing. I get to the bathroom, not even bothering to turn on the light because of the bright, sunny weather outside the window. I sit on the toilet, do my business, then walk up to the sink to wash my hands. I look myself over in the mirror; the view amuses me.

My lips are bright pink and slightly swollen, there are red splotches on my throat (and upon pulling the collar of the shirt down, there are some on my chest as well), my hair is all messed up and I look absolutely radiant. Seriously, I'm glowing. I smile at myself, unable to resist. I still have my elastic on my wrist, so I braid my hair and tie it with it. I walk out of the bathroom and head back into Sasuke's room. He's already lying on his bed, under his covers. He pats the spot next to him, inviting me over. I take a glance at his alarm clock. It reads 8:47.

"I missed an hour of class."

"You're not going to school today."

"But finals are almost here."

"I don't care. You were at the hospital last night."

"But–"

"Get in here." I do as he says, not really in the mood to argue or go to school. "We're staying in. We're gonna have breakfast and you're gonna tell me what happened."

I snuggle up to him and he pulls me tightly against his chest.

"And then, we're gonna talk about what happens now," he finishes.

"Not yet."

"Not yet."

"Later."

"Yes, later."

"Okay."

"If and when you want to."

"Mkay."

He goes silent. His breathing rocks me and in a matter of minutes, I feel myself slipping back out of consciousness.

**. . .**

In my apartment or at my parents' house, I very often eat in my room, on my bed. It's not very sanitary, but I compensate by rarely sleeping there. Sasuke, however, thought it would be a good idea to go down to get breakfast and bring it back up to his room to eat in his bed while watching a movie on his laptop. The two goofs that we are ran down in our underwear (well, I had a shirt on, but still) and grabbed everything we could from the table, which oddly enough was still set, despite it being past noon. I suspect Sasuke had something to do with it, but oh well. I also wonder how come no one saw us, but I guess everyone's being responsible citizens of the world, unlike us, and gone to work.

So I'm now trying my best not to drop anything on his sheets or sprinkle too many crumbs around me. Harry's curled up between Sasuke and me, purring away like a particularly content motorised boat engine. We're watching his dragon twin fly around on the screen and I can tell this is precisely what my system needs right now; tranquility, food and an animated movie about Vikings and dragons.

The movie finishes with Sasuke and I standing on his bed, passing Harry around, pretending he can fly. Thank God that cat has no more claws, because otherwise our arms would've turned into flesh scratch poles, but I worry he might still murder us in our sleep. He meows at the top of his lungs and tries to bite us, but we throw him between each other too fast for him to reach any target. It's twenty minutes before we let the poor creature go, after which he promptly flees from the room, which he will make a point of avoiding for the next twenty-four hours.

Sasuke and I plop down on his mattress, laughing like the childish buffoons we are. As we grow tired again, our laughter dies down, but my brain is saturated with endorphins and I let myself lean against Sasuke, feeling once more completely at ease. He rests his head on top of mine, then there are a few minutes of silence and I become aware that if there's one opportune moment to tell him what got me to call him from the hospital at nearly three in the morning, this is the one.

"So, um... About last night," I start. He says nothing, so I continue. "You know, um... You know about Sai, right?" He says nothing but I feel him nod against my head. I didn't specify the "boyfriend" part, it wouldn't have been very sensible. "Well, I was at his place and we... Well, he initiated me a while ago, before we got together. We decided to make a bucket."

I'm hoping he knows what I mean by "bucket". His lack of reaction implies that he does. I continue my story. Sai and I decided to make a bucket, which we did every once in a while instead of a simple joint because it's simpler use. So he got his stash, which he stored in a little painted box hidden in one of his kitchen cupboards. When he opened the box, there was a half-smoked joint with the rest of the weed. He told me two of his friends had come over previously and smoked with him. Assuming the joint only contained the weed he'd bought, he emptied it in the box. First mistake.

He gathered it and made a bucket with it. He lit it, took a swig out of it, then handed it to me. I put it to my mouth, snapped the Zippo on and took a long swig. A very long one. Second mistake. He asked me to go make Kraft Dinner while he set up a movie, which I did while I waited for the weed to take effect. I'd barely put the bowl in the microwave (to this, Sasuke scoffed "You make Kraft Dinner in the microwave?") before it kicked in. Already, the rapidity of the hit seemed abnormal, which worried me. I went into the living room, where Sai was, and told him of it. Third mistake. He said he too thought it was weird. Fourth mistake.

My heart, already beating fast because of the drugs, only got faster, which made me sweat. I went on with making the Kraft Dinner, but I knew something was wrong, and the more I thought about it, the scarier it got. I separated the noodles into two bowls and brought one to Sai. I sat next to him with mine. I barely took three bites, which was not normal munchies behaviour. Noticing this was another mistake. Number five.

I don't remember falling asleep, but I remember waking up to an intense sense of déjà vu. Every sentence that was uttered on TV, I felt I'd already heard it. I told Sai this, then suddenly realised it was impossible, since he'd specifically chosen a movie I'd never seen, and I seriously felt like I already knew every single word by heart. And the sense of déjà vu wasn't leaving. You know how it feels like your stomach drops? Well, mine felt like that, but three times per second, which only added to my panic. I noticed my tongue felt like a big lump of cheese and I couldn't feel my teeth anymore. More panic. And then I opened my eyes. Sixth mistake.

Everything I saw, every movement, either of my eyes or of something on the screen, was like stop-motion animation of thousands of cardboard cut-outs and plasticine shapes. I looked around frantically, hoping it would go away, but to my utter terror, it only got worse. Not only was it what I saw that got turned into incessant stop-motion, it was my thoughts too. I couldn't even take refuge it my mind, in my imagination to wait for the storm to pass. Even my thoughts were affected. I told Sai this. He paused the movie, got up and pulled me to the bathroom, where he made me splash water in my face. That's when I got a good look at my face. Seventh mistake.

I was grey. And not just vaguely livid or pale, actually green-tinted grey. I looked like death, with my slack jaw (I wanted to avoid eating my cheese tongue) and my red eyes. I looked nauseous, but I didn't feel it. Sai guided me out and sat me on his bed, then told me to try to sleep. I lay down and closed my eyes, but it only made things worse. I figured if I could fall asleep, I'd lose most of consciousness, so it wouldn't be so bad, but I couldn't calm down long enough to fall asleep. I was always jolted awake by something, like a noise, a disturbing thought or my own restless legs that would jerk for no reason, as if they were constantly coursed through with adrenaline. Which I guess they were, considering my state of absolute panic. Accepting my inability to sleep, I called out to Sai. He walked into the room slowly, calmly. I told him I couldn't sleep. He seemed to ponder the issue for a few seconds, then said "I can't help you" and walked out.

I got up to chase after him. How insensitive of him, I thought, to leave me while I've lost all control on consciousness. Because that was the worst part; I could not differentiate what was real and what wasn't. Everything felt like I was in a dream, but I knew I was awake, mostly because I could not stop my brain from reminding me over and over that I was under the influence and that everything, right at that moment, was not normal. Which was utterly terrifying.

And that's when I asked him to call an ambulance for me. Which, at first, he refused to do. He said the police would also show up and take him in for possession, and he simple couldn't risk that, not with his foster father. I remember staring at him, through my constant twitching and trembling, with all the disgust I could muster. At that point, I was convinced I was overdosing (although, granted, you can't overdose on weed), and all he was going to do about was make sure _his_ ass was safe! Then I remember hitting him, which I think got him to call, probably just to get me out of his apartment.

The rest is a blur. I remember sitting on his bed when the cops and the ambulance arrived. They asked me standard questions, which I know I answered ridiculously calmly, while on the inside I was screaming for them to help me. I told them I really just wanted to fall asleep. They helped me up and out the door, letting me only put on my shoes and take my health insurance card. I was probably too far gone to think of bringing my phone or the money I'd put on the counter after, earlier that day, I'd walked through heavy rain and had to change out of me clothes to dry them.

I don't know how long the ambulance ride lasted, nor do I remember how I got into the hospital. I just remember answering more questions for a man sitting at a desk, then being told by him to sit on an observation table and he gave me something, but I didn't realise what it was right away. I just held it in my hand and stared off into the distance, still hallucinating, still terrified. And then, out of nowhere, I hurled my dinner all over the floor and a little on one of my legs. The man came back a few minutes later, cursed when he saw my puddle of partially-digested macaroni, then groaned "I gave you a bag for that", to which I responded by looking down at my hand and noticing there was indeed a plastic bag in it.

I'm guessing the man was used to these situations, because he let it go, wiped the barf off my leg, put a towel on top of the puddle on the floor and guided me into another room, where he made me lie down to take my heart rate and blood pressure. A few women came in and stuck patches all over my stomach and collarbone, with wires attached to them. I don't know how much time later, they took them off, told me my heart rate was a little too elevated (even for someone who'd been smoking up) and left me to lie there.

Again, I don't know how much time passed. I still tried to survive my too vivid imagination. Eventually, however, I felt myself leaving. That was the only way I could describe it. I became persuaded I was dying (thus, more panic). I didn't know what was happening, but I figured that as long as I was breathing, I was still alive. I started breathing in deeply, taking in as much air as I could. I could still feel myself sinking into unconsciousness, which I only motivated me more to breathe as deeply as humanly possible.

After a while, a woman came in and told me to go sit in the waiting room. I only got more scared and refused, telling her I wasn't fine, I wasn't okay enough to get up, I was still hallucinating. She answered that she needed the room for someone with an actual injury that needed to be treated, and all I was doing was lying on the table, sleeping.

And then I understood. I wasn't dying. I was falling asleep.

Somewhat reassured but still panicky, I did my best to get up and walk to the waiting room, where I could feel everyone staring at me, judging me. It was obvious what was wrong with me, if only by the smell, but I just knew every single one of them disapproved of my behaviour. I didn't feel ashamed, I felt angry. Angry that it got so bad, angry that I let myself be pulled into that situation, angry that Sai barely helped me and maybe a little angry at the woman who made me go sit in the waiting room. As I sat in my chair, arms folded, head thrown back, trying to fall asleep, I sort of missed my observation table. At least it had a mattress, and I could lie down somewhat comfortably.

Through the terror and the hallucinations, I guess I managed to fall asleep.

"I called you when I woke up. I asked the receptionist for your number. She gave me your home number."

"Which is why my mom answered."

"Yep. Good thing you made up with your parents."

"Hm."

"Although, I must say, the three weeks after you moved back here were pretty lonely."

"You spent it with your boyfriend."

I don't answer. There was a lot of bitterness in that sentence and I have a hard time wrapping my head around the reason for it. He doesn't know Sai, he's never met him. And if he's jealous... well, I don't know what to do about that. After last night, I'm not too sure if I want to go back to Sai. I know I won't be able to without feeling guilty for cheating (for the second time, I KNOW) but he was an absolute, unhelpful dick and no matter how attached I got, I won't risk ever living through something like last night ever again. The fear is still vivid and I'm not entirely unbuzzed yet. I don't ever want to be that scared again.

And Sasuke... Nothing tells me he won't vanish into thin air again. If I let him in any closer, I need to be sure he won't leave. It's almost ridiculous how much I've been thinking about him since he moved out of my apartment. The day after we rescued Harry from his parents' place, he got a call from his brother, who offered to act as a mediator between Sasuke and their parents. They discussed for a few hours and came to an agreement. If Sasuke obtains his diploma in Administration by the end of the semester, he can start to train as a stunt double in a specialised gym, all the while continuing in the Administration course in university. Depending on whether the stunt thing works out or not, he's always welcome to intern at his mother's company or start training to become an officer like his father.

The next day, he was packing up. I was clinging to Harry, threatening to hold him hostage to stop Sasuke from leaving, but I eventually got a call from Sai, and Sasuke used the distraction to take the cat away from me. Before he left, he handed me his share of rent he'd promised me, all in cash. Funny anecdote, Temari saw this and immediately assumed he was paying me for sexual favours. She blew a monumental fuse and threatened to have me evicted for prostitution, which lasted a few minutes until Sasuke's friend with the ponytail (Nara, if I recall) came in to help carry the luggage out. She immediately shut her trap and ogled at him until they were gone.

They've hooked up twice since. She's a lot more bearable now that her screw's been loosened.

But then, I had to go back to being an exemplary girlfriend and Sasuke had to go back to being an exemplary son, and so we didn't talk at all until... well, last night, actually. And I missed him. Badly. I missed having him around, getting home to him sitting on my bed, having him walk in on me while I showered. Being Sai's girlfriend suddenly seemed very, _very_ dull. But I stuck with it, out of principle, I guess.

But now... Now, I don't want to leave. I don't want to go back. I want to stay here, leaning against Sasuke, feeling his warmth, his breath, his hands, his cat on my lap (oh, he came back). I want to turn my face to his and kiss him. Kiss him and hold him, nothing more, be in his arms and stay there forever. And then talk. About anything, just talk. He's funny when he puts his mind to it. And he's smart. And he makes me feel smart, and worthwhile, and not like I'm part of the furniture. Sure, he saved me last night, good on him. He's sort of a knight in shining armour. Without the shining armour. But I asked him to. I chose him to be the one to save me. Does that mean I trust him? Yes, completely. Does that mean I'm in love with him?

I don't know. Maybe. Probably.

But I have a boyfriend and I need to take care of that first.

"You know you can't OD on weed, right?" Sasuke asks, breaking my train of thought.

"I know. I never said I was overdosing, I just _thought _I was."

"Which makes no sense. You don't trip that badly either."

"I know, that's what's throwing me off. Especially since it wasn't the first time I took anything."

"Plus, you're a champion with alcohol."

I bend my armsand flex my muscles like a body builder, and make my best vocal impression of the Hulk. Sasuke laughs. I feel all warm inside. I like his laugh. It's high-pitched, unlike his chuckles, like my dad's. And my mom's, actually. But it sounds more genuine than a simple chuckle, which makes me feel proud. My jokes usually go unnoticed or unappreciated.

"But alcohol didn't prepare me for weed."

"Hm."

"I'm never smoking again."

"Right."

"I'm serious. I was way too scared. I don't want to feel that helpless again." There's a pause. "I just hope I can still drink, though."

He laughs again.

"You're shaping up to be one tremendous raging alcoholic."

"I'm glad you find that funny."

"Meh. You won't be that bad. Look at you making good choices and letting go of drugs."

"It's not like I need it. Weed is not addictive."

"It's a gateway drug."

"Why, thank you, PSA-Boy. I sure am glad you're here to remind me how my life could've spiralled out of control by way of a non-addictive, relaxant drug like pot."

"Something was up with what you smoked."

"And now, PSA-Boy turns into Captain Obvious."

"Alright, Sarcastic Wonder. I'll stop trying to help."

"Sorry. Just trying to live up to my superhero name." He says nothing. "Thank you for caring. That gives you points over Sai."

"Does that mean I win?"

"Do you see me running back to him?"

He's quiet for a few seconds.

"Good," he finally says.

I can hear the smile in his voice. Smug bastard.

**. . .**

_**A/N: **__There. SasuSaku. Fluff. Almost the end of the Sai arc. We got there. Happy?_

_Please review. Makes me feel whole._


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